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2007 Adopting Handala : deconstructing Jordanian and Palestinian refugee notions of coexistence and transnational consciousness Marianne Maurice Marar
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ADOPTING HANDALA: DECONSTRUCTING JORDANIAN AND PALESTINIAN REFUGEE NOTIONS OF COEXISTENCE AND TRANSNATIONAL CONSCIOUSNESS
A Dissertation Presented to The Faculty of the School of Education International and Multicultural Education Department
In Partial Fulfillment Of the Requirements for the Degree Doctor of Education
by Marianne Maurice Marar San Francisco May 2007
Copyright © Marianne Maurice Marar 2007
This dissertation is dedicated to my first educators, the gentlest and most peaceful warriors; my parents, Maurice and Madlein Marar for their unrelenting support and boundless love.
Acknowledgements
To my father, for honoring me and giving me the courage and confidence to pursue this inquiry; I thank him for being the only one to stand by me at times, and for being one of the few to never silence me. For my mother, the first feminist in my life, who journeyed with me to Jordan and silently carried with her the burden of making sure this dissertation reached its highest potential amidst political and social unrest. I was taught peace in my parents’ home, and because of them, ideologies of peace were always a part of my agenda. To my kooyreeg Maida, for her fearlessness and for giving me the desire to emulate her fierce yet humane spirit. To my amo Maher, for listening to my ideas and constantly sparking new ones; his vision only strengthened this inquiry.
To my life partner, fiancé, and gyank Abraham, for protecting my passion for this study and nurturing my individuality. “You were born together, and together you shall be forevermore. You shall be together when white wings of death scatter your days” (Kahlil Gibran, The Prophet). To my soul’s best friend Nicole, for the friendship without bounds and the gentle nature of her support. To Roush, for always lending an ear to me, keeping me sane, and spiritually aligned. My auntie Rima and my amo Imad who exhausted all possible resources to making sure my goals were met and surpassed. To my cousins Ruba and Razan, for their help with hours of transcription, site-visits, and moral support. To my cousin Jumana for teaching me that love transcends distance.
To my dissertation chair and senior advisor, Dr. Susan Roberta Katz, Ph.D., who through this process became one my closest friends in IME. Dr. Katz’s vast scholarly expertise and intense passion for ensuring the integrity of this piece allowed me to explore this radical research subject, even though it broke away from the traditional research mold. Dr. Shabnam Koirala-Azad, Ph.D., who taught me the importance of transnational scholarship and critical comparative approaches while simultaneously maintaining humility. Dr. Steven Zunes, Ph.D., who readily and kindly took on the challenge of sitting on my dissertation committe amidst his extremely demanding schedule; having such an authority on the Middle East oversee this study legitimated my arguments. To Dr. Miguel López, Ph.D., and Dr. Claudia Canizales, Ed.D., for helping me deconstruct the complexities of this piece; their friendship and support, even when I could not go on, strengthened my commitment to al-laji’een.
To the Jordanian participants Shadi, Ibrahim, and Osama for their honesty and commitment. To al-laji’een Nour, Khaled, and JR, for their elegance, dignity, and grace, and for staying true to the very struggle that has abandoned them. To Mr. Abu Ahmad for his impassioned dedication which carried me through this study. The people I met along my journey fundamentally altered my worldview. In my attempts to explore their critical transnational consciousness, I came to realize they were extracting mine: in other words, the reawakening, rebirth and my own conscientization that resuscitated my spirit, soul, and very being. And finally, to the revolution and the revolutionaries who brought out the revolutionary in me.
TABLE OF CONTENTS
Abstract………………………………………………………………….. 1
CHAPTER ONE: THE RESEARCH PROBLEM
Introduction……………………………………………………………… 2 Statement of the Problem………………………………………………... 4 Purpose of the Study…………………………………………………….. 8 Research Questions……………………………………………………… 8 Theoretical Framework………………………………………………….. 9 Anti-apartheid Rights Discourse……………………………………... 10 Racial Formation: War of Maneuver and War of Position…………... 12 Trajectory of Racial Politics and the Unequal Equilibrium………….. 14 Limitations of the Study…………………………………………………. 17 Significance of the Study………………………………………………... 18
CHAPTER TWO: REVIEW OF LITERATURE
Introduction……………………………………………………………… 20 Formation of the Israeli State and the Israeli-Palestinian Conflict……… 22 Fall of the Ottoman Empire circa early 1900s- Balfour Declaration, 1917……………………………………………. 22 The Role of the Holocaust……………………………………………. 24 Perceptions of the Palestinians at the time of Jewish Settlements…… 26 Jordan……………………………………………………………………. 27 Transjordan and the Hashemite Kingdom……………………..……... 27 Right-sizing Jordan…………………………………………………... 30 Refugees and Palestinian Diasporas……………………………..…… 34 Black September and Palestinian Resistance Movements…….……... 37 Jordan and Palestine, Twins?...... 39 United States-Middle East Foreign Relations…………………………… 42 US role in Israeli Occupation, Colonization and Oppression of Palestine……………………………………………………………… 43 US and UN Resolutions 242 and 338……………..………………….. 48 Oslo Accords…………………………………………………………. 50 The US and Iraq……………………………………………………… 51 Refugee Education………………………………………………………. 56 Palestinian Refugees in Jordan……………………………………….. 56 Refugee Camp Environment…………………………………………. 57 Ethnicity vs. National Ideantity: An “Us” versus “Them” Mentality.. 58 Indoctrination of Pseudo-Nation State Objectives and Agendas: The Hidden Curriculum……………………………………………… 61 International Models of Peace Education………………………………... 63 Inclusive Education…………………………………………………... 63
Positive and Negative Attitudes……………………………………...... 69 Importance of Good Educators………………………………………. 72 Summary of Peace Education Studies……...……………………………. 73 Conclusion……………………………………………………………….. 75
CHAPTER THREE: METHODOLOGY
Critical Ethnography Methods…………………………………………... 77 Research Design…………………………………………………………. 82 Field Notes…………………………………………………………… 82 Interviews…………………………………………………………….. 83 Data Collection……………………………………………………….. 85 Research Setting.………………………………………………………… 87 Research Participants.…………………………………………………… 90 Data Collection…………………………………………………………... 92 Data Analysis Procedures………………………………………………... 95 Protection of Human Subjects…………………………………………… 96
CHAPTER FOUR: METHODOLOGICAL CHALLENGES
Introduction……………………………………………………………… 98 Background of the Researcher………...………………………………… 98 A Journey Back Home…………………………………………………... 102 Methodological and Ethical Challenges…………………………………. 105 Border Identity Challenges………………………………………………. 119
CHAPTER FIVE: DECONSTRUCTING HANDALA
Meeting Handala………………………………………………………… 123 War………………………………………………………………………. 125 Jordanian Participants…………………………………………………… 127 Answering the Research Questions: Jordanian Perceptions………….. 128 First Research Question: Jordanian Perceptions of the Sociopolitical Climate………………………………………………... 130 Anti-Immigrant, Anti-Refugee Sentiment……………………………. 131 Lack of Critical (Inter) National Consciousness and Blind-faith Westernization………………………………………………………... 139 Second Research Question: Jordanian Perceptions of Education and the Hidden Curriculum……………………………………………….. 147 Palestinian Perceptions of the Sociopolitical Context: Ethnic Ghettoization of the Mukhayammat?...... 154 Population Density…………………………………………………… 156 Palestinian Participants………………………………………………. 159 Deconstructing Handala……………………………………………… 161 His Arms Behind His Back: American Rejection………………… 167 Handala’s Bare Footedness: Refugee Pride…………………...... 177
Second Research Question: Handala’s Hair as a Weapon: Education as a Weapon……………….…………………………...... 180
CHAPTER SIX: SUMMARY, RECOMMENDATIONS, AND CONCLUSIONS: WHAT WOULD HANDALA’S FACE LOOK LIKE?
Revisiting the Theoretical Framework…………………………………... 192 Conclusion……………………………………………………………….. 196 Recommendations for Further Research………………………………… 199 A New Paradigm: Human Rights and Refugee Education (HRRE)… 203 Handala’s Face…………………………………………………………... 206
REFERENCES: 207
APPENDICES:
A. Participant Consent Cover Letter…………………………………….. 215 B. Participant Consent Form…………………………………………….. 217 C. Organization Consent Letter- Dept. of Palestinian Affairs…………... 220 D. Organization Consent Form………………………………………….. 222 E. Interview Guide for Palestinian Refugees…………………………… 223 F. Palestinian Refugee Follow-Up Questions…………………………… 225 G. Interview Guide for Jordanians………………………………………. 226 H. Jordanian Follow-Up Questions……………………………………… 228 I. Department of Palestinian Affairs, Consent………………………….. 229 J. Department of Palestinian Affairs, Consent: Arabic…………………. 230 K. IRBPHS Approval Notice……………………………………………. 231
Abstract
This qualitative study aims to understand Jordanian and Palestinian refugees’
perceptions of coexistence as well as the role of academia and the sociopolitical
climate in shaping these perceptions. Data collection and observations in Palestinian
refugee camps and interviews with both Jordanian and Palestinian refugee university
graduates are the focus of this inquiry. Handala emerged from the observations and
became the indigenous framework of this dissertation. Handala demands attention and respect, all the while his back turned away from his audience and his people. In a climate of disarray and hopelessness, Handala asks us to critically examine global refugee existence, Diaspora, and displacement. As he adopted a transnational identity, I adopted him. And so, he begs the question: can we transcend warfare, and manifest peace? And finally, what could Handala’s face look like?
1 CHAPTER I
THE RESEARCH PROBLEM
Introduction
No region in the world harbors as many refugees as the Middle East (US
Committee for Refugees-World Refugee Survey, 2005). The Israeli Palestinian conflict reverberates throughout the Middle East and the world over. Palestinians are a very significant group for two reasons; first, Palestinians are the largest single group of refugees, and second, the majority of Palestinians are refugees (American Friends
Service Committee, 2004). The fact that numerically Palestinians pose the largest refugee community in the world is noteworthy. As of 2003, there are seven million worldwide (Badil Resource Center, 2006). This staggering number means that approximately two thirds of the Palestinian people are refugees (Middle East Report
22, 2004).
Palestinian refugees are diverse in their experiences, and can be placed in five categories. The refugees displaced in 1948 are the largest number. The “1967 displaced persons” (from the West bank, Eastern Jerusalem and the Gaza Strip) is another group and neither those from the waves in 1948 or 1967 are able to return, either by force or by fear. The remaining two are those who are internally displaced
(who remain in what became the state of Israel in 1948, and the areas that became the
West Bank, Eastern Jerusalem, and the Gaza Strip) (Badil Resource Center, 2006).
A key figure at the center of this global issue is Jordan; this country has provided more for Palestinians than any other country. As of March 31, 2005, Jordan harbors 1,780,701 registered Palestinian refugees, more than any other country
2 (UNRWA, 2005). The total number of Palestinian refugees in Jordan is 2,700,000; fifty percent of the area’s population (US Committee for Refugees, 2003). No country has extended as much effort, money, time and compassion to Palestinians as
Jordan.
Coexistence between Jordanians and Palestinians is embedded in the
Jordanian national identity. Many Palestinians have assimilated and consider their national identity to be that of Jordanian citizenship, no longer Palestinian. Her Royal
Majesty of Jordan, Queen Rania herself is Palestinian. Economic power among
Palestinians is not uncommon either (Reiter, 2004). Although many Palestinians living in Jordan have been granted citizenship, they are still a political minority
(Reiter, 2004). Therefore, both societal integration and economic strength do not translate into political might. Lynch (1999) argues “bitter battles continued over the ability of Jordanians of Palestinian origin to participate in politics” (p. 320).
While many Palestinians have assimilated and continue to thrive in Jordanian society, some have not. Poverty in the camps is not uncommon (Khawaja, 2003).
Monthly salary for people in poverty ranges between 55 Jordanian Dinars (JD) for a single person household to about 120 JD for a family of nine living in the camps
(Khawaja, 2003). Within a family of nine, with each family member survives on about 160 JD per year, about less than half of the national poverty line of 313 JD per year (Khawaja, 2003). Furthermore, about 27 percent of adults in the camps live below the poverty line (Khawaja, 2003). The 27 percent poverty among camp dwellers is very high compared to the ten percent national poverty average even when taking into account inflation and household size (Khawaja and Tiltnes, 2002).
3 How is being a refugee and refugee culture reflected in Palestinian
perceptions of coexistence with Jordanians? How do Jordanians perceive sustained
Palestinian presence? What is the relationship between socio-politics and academia
with Jordanian-Palestinian coexistence according to both Palestinians refugees and
Jordanians? These are the questions I addressed in my study.
Statement of the Problem
Much has changed in Jordan since attacks on the United States on September
11, 2001, and the terrorist attacks in Amman on November 9, 2005. King Abdullah,
who had just recently been appointed King in 1999, was not the successor Jordan’s
people would have chosen. They also felt that he had large shoes to fill and could
never do as good a job as his father, the late great King Hussein. King Abdullah, a
man who was educated outside the country, was viewed more as an British than king.
Moreover, the last minute switch from Prince Hassan (King Hussein’s brother, who
was also an unpopular candidate) made his appointment to the throne seem hasty and
without merit.
After the terrorist attacks in the United States in 2001, Jordan was one of the
first Middle Eastern countries to ally itself with the United States. This move was not
appreciated by the civilians of Jordan, who felt the king himself had become a puppet
to United States and been too opportunistic; essentially, selling the soul of the
Jordanian people to the enemy. King Abdullah II found himself in the awkward
position of allying with the United States, while simultaneously opposing a military
strike on Iraq. To the credit of the king, he also stated that the unresolved problems in the Middle East primarily had to do with the Israeli-Palestinian conflict. Ryan
4 (2004) argues that “Jordan’s seemingly unwavering support for the U.S. carried
potentially severe domestic costs. The rift between state and society was indeed
wide, and steadily growing” (p. 54).
A publicity frenzy from the kingdom ensued. “Jordan First” became the new
public relations slogan for the country. “Jordan First” (in Arabic, al-Urdun Awalan)
applied not only to foreign policy but also to domestic politics (Ryan, 2004). Soon
after the terrorist attacks in the country’s capital in 2005, the people of Jordan banded
together en masse to support the king. Patriotism reached a climax and soon, citizens
internalized “al-Urdun Awalan.”
While the terrorist attacks in Jordan were carried out by Iraqis who snuck into
Jordan to commit terrorism, not refugees per se, the general undertone among
Jordanians decried the abundant number of refugees in Jordan. Simply put,
Jordanians view turmoil in their country as a direct result of Iraqis in their midst. It is not a Jordanian problem (in other words, it was not the fact that Jordan has garnered unwanted attention for becoming too moderate, too westernized), but it was a problem of outsiders. However, the reality was the terrorists were actually Iraqis who infiltrated Jordan with the purpose and intent of carrying out terrorism.
Given the ever-changing sociopolitical climate, research conducted on either
Jordanian or Palestinian experiences is dated and needs to be revisited (Al-Simadi &
Atoum, 2000; Hart, 2002; Khawaja & Tiltnes, 2002; Khawaja, 2003). While there is
ample research on Jordan, only a handful of studies deal implicitly with Jordanian-
Palestinian coexistence (Hart, 2002; Frisch, 2004, Reiter, 2004). Moreover, much of
the research on Palestinian refugees solely addresses their experiences and not
5 interactions and perceptions of their host country and vice-versa (Al-Simadi &
Atoum, 2000; Khawaja & Tiltnes, 2002; Khawaja, 2003; Nasser; 2004).
Little research has been conducted on the Palestinian refugee culture in
Jordan, and even less has been done to investigate refugee education (Khawaja &
Tiltnes, 2002; Khawaja, 2003; Nasser, 2004). Much of the research and implementation is carried out from the top down; organizations such as the United
Nations have implemented human rights objectives, but none take into account the voices of the refugees at the grassroots level (UNRWA, 2005).
At a national level, 58 percent of the people of Jordan have completed basic education or less, while 76 percent of refugee camp residents have not received education past basic schooling (Khawaja & Tiltnes, 2002, p. 71). Therefore, the few that make it to a higher education institution are a rarity. However, according to
Khawaja and Tiltnes (2002) the numbers are improving drastically. Among people ages 55-59, one in ten had completed basic school, among people age 25-29 and 30-
34, six times as many had accomplished the same level (p.72). Moreover, one in four young adults have completed a post-secondary degree, due in large part to huge efforts made by UNRWA and Jordanian authorities (Khawaja & Tiltnes, 2002, p. 72).
While this research is valuable and integral, it predates the terrorist attacks in both
Jordan and the United States. Therefore the current situation requires building new data to further understand what, if any, implications the terrorist attacks in Jordan might have on the sociopolitical climate and how those implications are manifested in academia.
6 Central themes that guided my study emanated from the previous research that
I conducted. The first is Jordan’s spread of pan-Arabism and pan-Islamism, as well as
the Jordanian national identity (Hart, 2002; Nasser, 2004). The second is Palestinian
sub-communities in the refugee camps (Hart, 2002). The third is Palestinian youth
becoming agents of change for generations before them that have failed to take back
their homeland (Hart, 2002).
The voices of Jordanian and Palestinian notions of coexistence are nowhere to
be found in academic literature regarding the coexistence of these two groups. What
is the relationship between coexistence and education? What is the relationship between coexistence and the political climate? How do participants feel about coexistence? These questions were asked of Jordanian alumni and Palestinian refugee graduates from different public universities Jordan.
Those that will benefit from this study are Jordanian and Palestinian educators
at Jordanian universities, Jordanian and Palestinian peace activists, and organizations
like the United Nations that could better understand where to allocate aid and
funding. Students and educators in all of the higher education institutions in Jordan can benefit, and researchers interested in comparative analyses of coexistence, transnational, and Diaspora studies will find this research of great value. Moreover, participants in this study will gain a more critical understanding of their own
perceptions of coexistence.
7 Purpose of the Study
The purpose of this qualitative study was to critically examine coexistence of
Palestinians and Jordanians from the perspectives of Palestinian refugee university graduates and Jordanian alumna. Given the current global political climate, it is important to understand certain dynamics in the Middle East, one of which is coexistence.
The intent of this study was to understand how university graduates process and interpret the role education and the political climate play in shaping the continued
Palestinian presence in Jordan. This qualitative study utilized critical ethnography to discover what it means for Palestinian refugees and Jordanians to coexist. At this stage in the research, an understanding of refugee culture is important as well as university graduate students’ critical understanding of what it is like to share the same land.
Research Questions
The questions below have never directly been explored previously. The aim was to gain a heightened awareness of Jordanian-Palestinian coexistence. These questions sought to understand and discover not only the Palestinian voice, but also to gain insight into how these two people come together to share the same land in times of war and conflict.
8 1. What are the experiences and perspectives of Jordanians regarding Jordanian
and Palestinian coexistence?
a. How does the sociopolitical climate contribute to Jordanian
perspectives of coexistence?
b. How do education and the “hidden curriculum” address coexistence?
2. What are the experiences and perspectives of Palestinian refugees regarding
Jordanian and Palestinian coexistence?
a. How does the sociopolitical climate contribute to Palestinian
perspectives of coexistence?
b. How do education and the “hidden curriculum” address coexistence?
Theoretical Framework
This qualitative study took take place within several theoretical frameworks:
Freire’s (2003) approach to liberation through critical consciousness; anti-apartheid
rights discourse; Omi and Winant’s (1994) war of position and war of maneuver as
well as trajectory of racial politics and finally; Glenn’s (2002) notion of unstable
equilibrium. As Creswell (2003) states, the theoretical perspectives in ethnographic
research “provide a ready-made series of hypothesis to be tested from the literature”
(p. 131). In other words, culturally based theories presented in the theoretical
perspectives were tested out during my research in Jordan, while simultaneously positioning myself in this study.
Critical consciousness is the awakening of the soul that realizes its present
state, and begins the journey to transform and transcend its current reality (Freire,
2003). The examination of refugee education through discourse and dialogue is
9 essential. Peoples’ understanding of the world and the ideals they are taught might be
indicators of a future of hope or hopelessness, war or peace, suicide bombers or future
leaders on the frontlines of justice for humanity. Therefore, education and
understanding the surroundings and perceptions of their realities may have direct
implications for how individuals view their existence.
Anti-apartheid Rights Discourse
Zreik (2002) explores the anti-apartheid rights discourse using the South
Africa-Israel analogy in order to see whether or not Israel fits the apartheid model.
Rights discourse:
[B]elieves in its own power to effect social and political change….The basic idea is that the universality of rights creates a common ground allowing everyone—oppressors and oppressed—to find their place and participate in discourse. Accordingly, while the struggle of the oppressed exerts pressure on the oppressor, at the same time it offers the possibility of a universal way out of the conflict: the quest for liberation by the oppressed creates the conflict and the solution to the conflict at the same time. (p. 69)
The purpose of the anti-apartheid rights discourse is to suggest an archetype for
Palestinians in their quest for justice. Zreik (2002) applies the anti-apartheid model to
three Palestinians factions; refugees, Palestinians of the Occupied Territories, and
Palestinian citizens of Israel. While most social scientists would argue for
Palestinians in Israel, the apartheid model is a hyperbole; the West Bank parallel is
apropos.
Apartheid at its core is analogous to oppression and exclusion. Zreik (2002)
argues that anti-apartheid rights discourse has been instrumental in creating global
solidarity and the defeat of the apartheid system. However, it is simultaneously
important to use caution when applying rights discourse in the Palestinian case, given
10 that the rights discourse does not take into account historical context. The main
difficulty in using the South African-Israeli model as a comparison is the
fragmentation of many Palestinians. Those who are refugees, those living in Israel,
and those living in the Occupied Territories all have different realities and those
realities shape the truths of these groups differently.
Zreik (2002) contends the rights discourse does not correspond with the
realities of refugees because by definition apartheid, “presupposes a presence within
the country while being excluded from (being outside) the rights regime” (p. 71). In
South Africa while total dispersal took place, this dispersal was internal displacement
as opposed to expulsion and exile. Perhaps, however, the anti-apartheid rights
discourse model applies to Palestinians living in Jordan because apartheid by
definition means to officially segregate people politically, economically and legally.
As it appears, the rights discourse is too simplistic, and a comparison of the
South African-Israeli case is an overgeneralization. The historical context of the
Palestinians is not only a link to, but a result of the entire ‘Question of Palestine’ in
terms of repatriation and self-determination. In other words, the history of the
Palestinian struggle could never be excluded. However, is the rights discourse
applicable to Palestinians in the Jordanian context? This is what I intended to find out.
Rights discourse, as highlighted by Zreik (2002) and Evans (2005), favors the legal aspect of discourse as opposed to cultural, economic, sociopolitical or geo- political rights. Implicit in the rights discourse is the assumption that international law—if executed correctly with universal, inclusive collaboration and creation of
11 global human rights institutions—ensures the dignity and welfare of people.
However inherent flaws are present in the discourse that have already been addressed; among them the emphasis of legal rights, and the de-emphasis of the historical context. Moreover, while membership in the global community and discourse revolving around international rights is commendable, much of it is just that— discourse. According to Evans (2005) “When a state fails to respect human rights, international society has a responsibility to take whatever action is necessary to protect the rights of those threatened by tyrannical and illegitimate governments”
(p.1047). While the United States pays little attention to the Question of Palestine, the international community gives credence to the Palestinian question; however members of the international community could exert more pressure on Israel for oppression of Palestinians.
Racial Formation: War of Maneuver and War of Position
Racial formation is set up to keep people at odds, to keep one above the other, and to ensure the success of one over the exclusion of the other. Labor and economic equality are modes of inclusion and exclusion, and citizenship and political engagements are others. This critique will examine the harsh realities of racial formation; Omi and Winant (1994) provide a historical framework, and Glenn (2002) takes a look at the integration of race and gender politics into society. The two major themes that arise are notions of war of maneuver and war of position and the trajectory of racial politics, more specifically the concept of unstable equilibrium.
Race is central to social relations, and Omi and Winant (1994) contend that
“[Race] is an unstable complex of social meanings constantly being transformed by
12 political struggle” (p. 55). Race plays an integral role in defining and as such,
categorizing inhabitants of the social world. Glenn (2002) also argues that race plays
a major role in the formation of society, while contributing the additional element of
gender. She integrates race and gender, and how they exist within society to oppress.
Citizenship was one such mode of operation. While both Omi and Winant (1994) and
Glenn (2002) discuss these notions using race in the United States, it was my intent to see whether or not the same theories apply to biculturalism in Jordan.
Omi and Winant (1994) discuss two wars; the war of maneuver and the war of
position. The war of maneuver describes subordinate groups and how they seek to
maintain their territories. It is a way in which these groups maneuver themselves
around dominant society to maintain themselves and their identities. Oftentimes this
is done by creating a community within a community. The authors define this war as
“a situation in which subordinate groups seek to preserve and extend a definite
territory, to ward off violent assault, and to develop an internal society as an
alternative to the repressive social system they confront” (p. 81).
War of position is another act of resistance (after all, both the war of
maneuver and the war of position are acts of resisting the dominant culture), but it
differs from the war of maneuver in that it necessitates political power and national
recognition. With that, a mini revolution stirs. These actions cost lives, jobs, and
rights, but nonetheless, political prowess is being learned.
Omi and Winant (1994) argue that race is not an illusion; rather it is living, breathing and permeating this society. Historically people have engaged in racially based social movements. None of this can be done without political voice and in
13 time, more recognition. In other words, this war of position enables people to take
back what was theirs—their right, their identity, and the blood sweat and tears of
generations before them.
Arguably an oppressed community’s greatest fear can be assimilation, and
groups resist through both war of maneuver and war of position; consequently they
devote a substantial amount of energy to preserving their identities in the host society.
Festivals, private schools, community centers, religion, and family are some of the vehicles used by communities to maintain their cultural identity.
Trajectory of Racial Politics and the Unstable Equilibrium
Before delving into the trajectory of racial politics, we must first take a look at
how Omi and Winant (1994) define trajectory; it is, “the pattern of conflict and
accommodation which takes shape over time between racially based social
movements and the policies and programs of the state” (p. 78). Central to the
trajectory are state and social movements. The equilibrium of the racial order, they
contend, is unstable as a result of a plethora of sometimes contradictory interests,
seeped in racial, and according to Glenn (2002), gendered ideologies. These
ideologies, more often than not, reiterate the dominant racial method and go
uninterrupted for many years. Challenges of these ideologies result in a crisis at
which point different techniques and plans are tested. Ultimately, a new unstable
equilibrium is created. In a sense, the inclusion of a war of maneuver and/or a war of
position is a large part of the trajectory of racial politics, and the continuous creation
and recreation of an unstable equilibrium.
14 The concept of unstable equilibrium in the trajectory of racial formation can be seen in Glenn’s (2002) description of citizenship. Through time the definition and notion of citizenship morphs and takes on new meanings, thus creating a new unstable equilibrium altogether. Citizenship for centuries has been used to keep certain groups at bay, and it is no accident that certain rules and provisions are placed to rationalize and justify enslavement in the physical and psychological sense. The rationalization of why certain groups can not be afforded citizenship takes on many forms. In the Palestinian case in Jordan, for instance—people were granted citizenship and in some cases, as a result of assimilation, conceptually gave up their
Palestinian nationality. Lynch (1999, in O’Leary, Lustick, & Callaghy, 2000) furthers this argument: “[T]he Jordanian state actively sought to assimilate
Palestinians into Jordanian citizenship and resisted any assertion of Palestinian nationalism” (p. 321).
In the past five years, we can take a look at new immigration laws in the
United States, and provisions for citizenship, and indeed there is an exclusionary trend after September 11, 2001. Many Arabs can not enter this country, gain citizenship and are under severe scrutiny from the social and political order. This is a new unstable equilibrium- one we must live with until another is born. What we are
seeing, therefore, is that those who are citizens (previously white males in Glenn’s
[2002] case) are speaking and voting on behalf of the “dependent,” “incapable,” and
“needy” subordinates.
Citizenship is slowly taking on a new meaning, and does not have to do with
only issues of legality. It is also a way of manipulating the psyches of oppressed
15 groups of people, by telling them, whether subliminally or overtly, that they are not a
part of, or included in any substantial decision making process. Glenn (2002) attests
“citizenship is not just a matter of formal legal status; it is a matter of belonging,
including recognition by other members of the community” (p. 52).
The unstable equilibrium has shifted, and now there is a new norm. It is
through social and political movements that the trajectory of racial politics can make strides. As mentioned earlier, Palestinians are more or less excluded from the political realm in Jordan and hold no political might (Reiter, 2004). However, it is possible that vis-à-vis inter-communal organizations, cross-societal and cross-cultural
activism, as well as inter-societal coordination, Palestinians might negotiate these
realities. Moreover, Palestinians have been granted full citizenship in Jordan—the
only country to do this for its Arab counterpart. While citizenship in this context is not meant to exclude bur rather to ensure assimilation, political exclusion might indeed lead to segregation, thus creating a new unstable equilibrium and trajectory of politics.
Omi & Winant (1994) and Glenn (2002) offer theoretical and historical
frameworks that allow me to understand the birth of this nation as well as Jordan, the
values they hold dear, and the way ends justify social, economic, and political means.
History and theory offer a solid foundational basis, and when we begin to understand
our country’s mistakes, it is only then that we as educators can begin to set out and teach truth. It was my intent to study how war of maneuver, war of position, trajectory of racial politics and the unstable equilibrium applied in Jordan in the case of Palestinians as members in a host country and Jordanians as the dominant society.
16 Limitations of the Study
While I recognize that I could have looked at only one academic institution in
Jordan so as to offer an acute analysis of a specific institution, it was not the intent of
this study; the intent was to provide a comparative analysis of varying institutions
from the perspectives of both Jordanian and Palestinian refugees from institutions
Jordan-wide. Moreover this study took into account the perceptions of six
participants. This is by no means an attempt to make generalizations, but rather to
explore the perceptions of the participants that were selected, and agreed to
participate. The intent at the onset of this study was to petition males and females as well as Christian and Muslim participants to include diverse experiences. Jordanian and Palestinian refugee community members who were not university graduates were
also asked to participate. It was my opinion this kind of study is not quantifiable;
therefore this study does not have a quantitative component.
This study is conducted in Jordan, and conclusions cannot be generalized to
include all Arabs or Arab countries; pan-Arab inferences would oversimplify the
Palestinian refugee problem. Also, Palestinians are not the only refugees in Jordan; there is an influx in the presence of Iraqi refugees as a result of the US led war, and a presence of Lebanese refugees, as a result of the Hezbollah-Israeli war; the notions of non-Palestinian refugees and their perceptions of coexistence were not explored in this study. Palestinian refugees attend higher education institutions throughout the
Middle East and their experiences are all diverse. Jordanian notions of coexistence might not translate (nor are they intended to) all Jordanian students or Arabs throughout the Middle East. Community members are representing their own truths
17 and realities, not the realities of all Jordanians, Palestinian refugees, or Arabs en
masse.
Several limiting factors precluded this research from reaching its full
potential; Namely, the role of mukhabarat (secret police), Palestinian refugee
mistrust as a result of pervasive fear, and the responsibility (and guilt) of documenting and properly conveying the perspectives and voices of participants.
Consequently challenges emanated on all fronts of this research agenda. Further methodological and ethical challenges were posed while conducting the study in
Jordan, which will be further discussed in Chapter Four.
Significance of the Study
This proposed study relates to a practical problem: there is an immediate need
to understand Jordanian and Palestinian refugee coexistence on both the geographic
and global level. First, on the local scale, this phenomenon is relevant to neighboring
Arab states as it affects internal politics and external diplomacy. Second, this study
plays a fundamental role the United States’ and European Union’s handling (or
mishandling) of the Israeli-Palestinian conflict. It is central to the Palestinian
question, which is continuously dealt with by the United States, the European Union and other global entities. This study’s agenda advances anti-hegemonic processes. In essence, this study and its far reaching implications cross transnational boundaries.
The Middle East has received a lot of coverage mainly because of the Israeli and
Palestinian situation. This study aims to contribute to the greater understanding of
Jordanian-Palestinian refugee coexistence from the perspectives of Jordanians and
18 Palestinian refugees themselves. Making these perceptions explicit is important in
peaceful and sustained coexistence.
Scholarly work in this arena is, at best, limited. Stereotypes and false
assumptions abound in public discourse regarding Palestinian refugees, and refugees
in general for that matter. The findings of this study may shed light on a corner of the
world which is neglected, under-funded, and marginalized. By engaging in
meaningful discourse with the inhabitants of Palestinian refugee camps, Palestinian
refugee and Jordanian university graduates, we could gain a greater, more critical
understanding of the social, educational, political, and overall human underpinnings
of coexistence, specifically in the Jordanian context. This study may provide a
platform for both refugees inhabiting the camps and Jordanians and Palestinians who
inhabit the power structures. This study may also have great implications for
peaceful coexistence in other places, all over the world.
The subject of coexistence has global significance bearing in mind the degree
to which immigration, migration, and forced displacement have accelerated. The
consequential uneasiness and growing xenophobia in most places about being forced to tolerate and coexist with the “other” further highlights the importance of addressing a more sustainable relationship between dominant and “other.” Emergent trends in forced displacement and migration necessitate immediate attention in order to facilitate and foster meaningful and authentic communities. Scholarly discourse regarding dominant and marginalized communities is integral to breaking down current cycles which enable and perpetuate inequalities.
19 CHAPTER II
REVIEW OF LITERATURE
Introduction
Cone and Foster’s (1993) “funnel approach” is critical in any literature review
and crucial to this one in particular because an extensive history in the Middle East
provides a very essential historical framework. The funnel approach in a literature
review begins with the natural progression going from “the general to the specific” (p.
109). Therefore the formation of the Israeli state, the Israeli Palestinian conflict, and
the Palestinian Diaspora to Jordan must be covered, as well as the role that the United
States plays. Next, it is important to examine the role of the United Nations in
Jordanian refugee camps. What is their main objective? How is education overseen?
These questions will be addressed in the review of literature.
Simultaneously I was learning of programs in Palestine/Israel that were
forming in schools to teach students the language of the “other” in order to aid in
peace and liberation education. The most notable one is Neve Shalom/Wahat al-
Salam, the School for Peace (Feuerverger, 1997). When I read about this school, a
light bulb went off in my head (and spirit). Surely, if students were learning
languages of the “other” in times of warfare and systematic hatred, Palestinian human
rights and refugee education were not impossible. Discussion revolving around
Jordanian and Palestinian refugee coexistence could and should be addressed.
To date, only a handful of studies specifically investigate the refugee camps in
Jordan, especially education in the camps (Al-Simadi & Atoum, 2000; Hart, 2002;
Khawaja & Tiltnes, 2002; Khawaja, 2003). Therefore it was important to look at
20 different models of education. In this review of literature, models of peace education will be critically examined.
This process of research has been very cathartic; I am witnessing the resuscitation of my own critical consciousness and conscientization (Freire, 2003).
As a Jordanian-Armenian (and American) I am ashamed of the world as I know it, and I am humiliated by my generation for sitting passively as their world turns to ruins. At the same time, however, with little global education or civic participation, I understand it. I am beginning to love again—love this subject matter. I had to put it away for a while, before realizing that I could make a significant contribution to research in Jordan.
I used to feel hopeless because I felt that Anti-Arabism and hatred from the
West would never cease. I realize now that my research can provide a framework for peace and that because this study by nature has activist and critically ethnographic methods in nature, that I too have the power to change things. Now, after much reflection, I feel reborn, and ready to tackle this topic with peace education and more importantly, with hope. So, here I go—delving into the abyss.
21 Formation of the Israeli State and the Israeli-Palestinian Conflict
Fall of the Ottoman Empire circa early 1900s-Balfour Declaration, 1917
When the Israeli-Palestinian Conflict is inputted in “Google” 14,300,000
search results are available. While sifting through the sites looking for something authentic, something worthwhile, the sense is overwhelming confusion because to really understand the current state of how the Palestinian/Israeli peoples came to live in war, day in and out, we must take a look at its history, and not through the dominant lens. I will do my best to give a scholarly account of the conflict, while still very aware that things in Palestine/Israel are changing every single day.
Dating back to 1516, the Ottoman Empire had taken hold of most of the
Middle East. Not until the 1880s did Arabs begin to see the establishment of Arab nationalism (Said, 1980). Simultaneously, in the 1880s, the Zionist movement began
which maintained that Jews had a right to their own state. It is important to take a
quantitative look at what the Palestinian population looked like at the time. Said
(1980) provides this information:
Despite the steady arrival in Palestine of Jewish colonists after 1882, it is important to realize that not until the few weeks immediately preceding the establishment of Israel in the spring of 1948 was there ever anything other than a huge Arab majority. For example, the Jewish population in 1931 was 174,606 against a total of 1,033,314; in 1936, Jewish numbers had gone up to 384,078 and the total to 1,366,692; in 1946 there were 608,225 Jews in a total population of 1,912,112. In all these statistics, “natives” were easily distinguishable from the arriving colonists. But who were these natives? (p.11).
These numbers are crucial as they put the ratio of Arabs to Jews in perspective. The
overwhelming majority were Arabs. And the occupiers of the land were also
representative of the numbers as well. Also, as the numbers indicate above, circa
22 1880 to the post World War II era, there existed a huge leap in the number of Jews in
Palestine. Meanwhile, Jews possessed a desire to form a Jewish national identity, as
well as the appeal of Palestine because of “a 2,000 year old dream of returning to the
biblical land of their ancestors” (Caplan & Eisenberg, 1998, p. 5). The presence of
Zionism (Jewish nationalism) in the Muslim Arab world created conflicts at its birth,
and continues to do so as I write.
What takes place between 1880 and post World War II era? In 1880 we begin to see the formation of small Jewish communities, and in November of 1917 a landmark event takes place, the Balfour Declaration, by the British government in a
letter to Lord Rothchild (a major supporter of the Zionist movement towards
Palestine). Although the British did not even control Palestine, and it was not
Britain’s to give away, the declaration promises Palestine as a national homeland for
Jews (Said, 1980). What is important to note here (aside from British colonialism),
and Said (1980) does so very eloquently is the absence of Palestinian permission and
the presence of European states dictating the future of non-European land.
The Balfour Declaration is monumental in the crumbling of the native
Palestinian spirit, because it takes the form of a promise- a promise that outlines a
new land for a foreign group, thus making it a national home for the Jewish people
(Said, 1980, 16). Here a tug of war takes form by pinning native groups of
Palestinians against non-native European/Western culture. Before 1918, Palestine
was a province of the Ottoman Empire, and after 1918, it “officially entered Britain’s
sphere of influence” (Said, 1980, p. 19).
23 What transpired next was the formation of two very distinct identities—the
Palestinian identity and the Israeli identity. The Palestinian identity became clearly one opposed to both British and Jewish colonization. Meanwhile, the Jewish identity became one of re-establishment of Palestine into a national home for the Jewish people (Said, 1980, pp. 12-13).
The notion of re-establishing Palestine necessitated the reconstruction and rebuilding of Palestine, which resulted in “780,000 Arab Palestinians [that] were dispossessed and displaced in 1948 in order to facilitate the “reconstruction and rebuilding” of Palestine” (Said, 1980, p. 14). Palestinian refugees were born—now in the millions.
The Role of the Holocaust
The United Nations (2005) dedicates a website to “The Question of
Palestine.” In its historical overview it states:
During the years of the Palestine Mandate, from 1922 to 1947, large- scale Jewish immigration from abroad, mainly from Eastern Europe took place, the numbers swelling in the 1930s with the notorious Nazi persecution of Jewish populations. Palestinian demands for independence and resistance to Jewish immigration led to a rebellion in 1937, followed by continuing terrorism and violence from both sides [emphasis added] during and immediately after World War II. Great Britain tried to implement various formulas to bring independence to a land ravaged by violence. In 1947, Great Britain in frustration turned the problem over to the United Nations. (United Nations, 2005, url:http://www.un.org/Depts/dpa/ngo/history.html)
In short, the Nazi Persecution led to two diverging notions; (a) the notion that Jews needed a national home after the Holocaust, and that they could immigrate to
Palestine, (because of biblical references) and (b) the world would sit back and form collective synthetic guilt (if it were genuine guilt they could have helped the Jews
24 during the Holocaust) and allow this new settlement to take place. The institutional
powers did not seek permission or input from the Palestinian people because no one
looked to Palestinians as people who mattered. The main objective was to cleanse
Europe of its horrific implicit and explicit recent actions.
The removal of indigenous inhabitants of Palestine was a necessary evil in order for Jews to begin to form their own national identity. In essence, the birth of the Jewish national identity implied the death of the Palestinian one. Many assumed the “Palestinian problem” would just go away. Many were exiled, persecuted, but many fought (and still fight) for the cause, and this is why not only has the “Question of” Palestinian not gone away, but it grows in strength and numbers. Zionists underestimated the Palestinians because of Palestinian willingness to sell Jews land.
This lead Zionists to take lightly the pain that drove Palestinian determination.
The Holocaust necessitated urgency for the Zionists, and this urgency
necessitated a permanent residence in Palestine (Caplan & Eisenberg, 1998, p. 7). It is noteworthy to state that although many felt that they could not touch the Israeli-
Palestinian conflict after the Nazi persecution, it was made easier to ignore it because of the perception of Palestinians as villagers, terrorists, and barbarians. In other
words, they became not just the “other,” but a less important population as a while.
This made it even more feasible to turn the other cheek.
25 Perceptions of the Palestinians at the Time of the Jewish Settlements
Forced exiles, persecution, and hundreds of thousands of refugees overnight
are much easier to ignore if the perception of the people involved is that they are less
than human. This has been occurring for numerous decades with Arabs of the Middle
East, and even Arabs in the United States. A resurgence of this mentality reached
epic proportions after the terrorist attacks on September 11, 2001. Said (1980)
contends that “No matter how backward, uncivilized, and silent they were, the
Palestinian Arabs were on the land” (p. 9). Therefore, no matter what the portrayal of
the Arabs in Palestine, it does not negate the fact that they inhabited the land.
However, the assumption remained that if there were degradation, people would be
less likely step in and step up for the Palestinian cause. This denial of humanity, a
very systematic mode of oppression on behalf of the new Israeli state, with the help of
Europe and the West, is echoed in Freire’s (1994) notion of the price one pays for not
fitting into the dominant ideology.
…-[T]heir need to deny the humiliating truth, a truth that humiliates them precisely because they introject the dominant ideology that sketches them as incompetent and guilty, the authors of their own failures. And yet the actual ‘why’ of those failures is to be found in the perversity of the system. (Freire, 1994, p.56)
Here the once oppressed Jews become the oppressors. This portrayal once
again allowed Jews to settle in a land that was not theirs under the premise that the
Palestinians were too savage to maintain their own land anyway, and “It is precisely this kind of thinking, almost to the letter that informed the Zionist slogan formulated by Israel Zangwill for Palestine toward the end of the century: a land without people, for a people without land [emphasis added]” (Zangwill in Said, 1980, p. 9).
26 Arab nations took in Palestinian refugees, rare among host countries, but because the
atrocities were so damaging and dehumanizing, the refugees were able to find safe
harbor in Jordan and other neighboring countries.
How was it possible to remain silent when inalienable human rights were being taken away, murdering the souls of the indigenous peoples of Palestine? Simply
by persuading people that a new civilized nation would serve the world better than
villagers ever could. Said (1980) asserts that “No liberal would be found silent
championing the cause of human rights in the Soviet Union, or Chile, or Africa. Yet
when it comes to similar matters in Israel, there is almost total silence” (Said, 1980, p.
42). It is no wonder then, that out of this “culture of silence” (as Freire [1994] identifies it) martyrdom and suicides are born and bred. When people are faced with such calamity and hopelessness, what ensues?
Jordan
Transjordan and the Hashemite Kingdom
Jordan represents a neocolonial monarchy; its borders were drawn by the
British. The Emirate of Transjordan was a political division of the British Mandate of
Palestine that came into effect in 1921 (“The Hashemites,” 2006). It is
geographically equivalent to the present day Kingdom of Jordan. The borders and
territory of Transjordan were not drawn until the Mandate came into effect. The
Hashemite, Abdullah I, was appointed to the throne of Transjordan (“The
Hashemites,” 2006). The Hashemites are said to be direct kins of the Prophet
Muhammad. It is worth mentioning the arbitrariness of the creation of Jordan; an
27 artificial creation with the intent of appeasing the British Empire and yet viewed as
distinct and possessing power.
Sharif Husayn, member of the Hashim clan and descendant of the Prophet
Mohammad, sent his son Abdullah, to the British for aid against the Turks in 1914, upon finding out Ottoman intentions of “extending the Hijaz railway to Mecca”
(Smith, 2004, p. 59). And so, the relationship between the British and the Hashemites
(future leaders of Jordan) strengthened. The history of the Middle East with its beautiful sights and smells, holy places and intelligentsia, is simultaneously connected to European interests, arrogance, and willful ambivalence. Smith (2004) contends in his discussion of Zionism and British presence in Palestine that, “Here
Zionism melded with British assumptions of their right to deal with the territories as they saw fit. Zionism was also “right” because it was part of a European experience—the persecution of the Jews—that had to be redressed” (p. 85). This theme of false entitlement seems threaded in the tragic history of the Arab world.
King Abdullah I ruled Transjordan for thirty years, turning the nomadic
society into a well-run, functioning state. Gradually, the British eased up on their
control and in 1946, Transjordan gained its full independence and became a Kingdom
(“The Hashemites,”2006). The parliament of Transjordan proclaimed the Hashemite
Abdullah the King and formally changed the name from Transjordan to Hashemite
Kingdom of Transjordan (and in 1949, Hashemite Kingdom of Jordan) (“The
Hashemites,” 2006). King Abdullah’s role was not an easy one; he served as the
liaison between a European power and local social structures (Wilson, 1987). His
28 role as mediator between the British and the Arabs in Transjordan often translated to puppetry, leaving Britain to make the moves.
Controversy surrounds King Abdullah I. During a secret meeting in 1947 with Ben Gurion (leader of the Zionist Movement), the king agreed to thwarting a
Palestinian state. Although prior to 1937, the king was never really interested in
Palestine, he began to pay more attention when Britain “suggested that Palestine might be partitioned between Arabs and Jews and that Abdullah might rule the Arab part” (Wilson, 1987, p. 38). Britain wanted to find a go-between in Palestine to remove the nationalist elite and in this quest, Transjordan (being a British ally) seemed the obvious candidate. This deed raised many questions regarding the intentions of Transjordan, and in essence lay the groundwork for suspicion and distrust in the years to follow.
This pattern emerged in Abdullah’s time and is still with us today despite the 1967 war. It is set by the common interest of both countries [Britain and Transjordan] in containing Palestinian nationalism. It is the pattern that is threatened by the claim, among some in Israel and the United States today, that Jordan is Palestine. (Wilson, 1987, p. 41)
29 Right-sizing Jordan
“By ‘right-sizing’ we refer to the preferences of political agents at the centre of existing regimes to have what they regard as appropriate external and internal territorial borders” (O’Leary, 2001, p. 2).
When Britain became too overwhelmed with the Palestinian/Israeli conflict in
1947, the matter was handed over to the United Nations.
Britain did not wait for the debate in the General Assembly that was scheduled for November. On September 26 it declared that the British would withdraw from Palestine, ending the mandate unilaterally and handing the matter over to the United Nations. (Smith, 2004, p. 189)
After much deliberation, the General Assembly passed a partition plan (thirty-three to
thirteen, ten abstentions), giving the Jews an independent state in Palestine (Smith,
2004). The global community gave legitimacy to Jewish self-determination. Smith
(2004) acknowledges that while this was a landmark event, “Amidst the wild celebrations in New York, Tel Aviv, and the Jewish sectors of Jerusalem, both Arabs
and Jews prepared for war” (p. 190).
The synchronized Arab attack under the Arab League auspices of Israeli
forces in 1948 was significant because Arabic countries came together (although
‘together’ in this sense is used loosely) to defeat Israelis. The Arab League in its
entirety could not compete with Israeli manpower and military prowess. The distrust
of Transjordan’s King Abdullah I emanated here:
All rightly suspected Jordan’s Abdullah of seeking to acquire control of the area allotted to the Palestinian Arabs under the partition plan in order to incorporate it into his kingdom, thereby enlarging his country and defeating the mufti in the process (Smith, 2004, p. 196).
30 This was the first of many Arab-Israeli wars to come which resulted in Israel taking
over land the UN declared Palestinian territory, and the Gaza Strip fell to Egypt and
the West Bank to Jordan (Caplan & Eisenberg, 1998, p. 7).
It is difficult for anyone to confront the realities of their own country. I have
internalized the public relations slogan, “Jordan First” from King Abdullah II.
However, I am coming to realize that countries the world over (Arab countries
included) exploit the Palestinians and the Palestinian cause, merely using it as a
bargaining chip, and in essence stripping the people of their legitimacy. Arab leaders
have and continue to respond (however disingenuously) to popular support for the
Palestinian cause among their people. However, in negotiations regarding the good
of the people, versus the good of the country—it is the people that suffer.
The violence began to take a very catastrophic turn for the worst. Fighting
ensued for years, and in 1967, Israel captured large territories from Egypt and Jordan
(the West Bank and the old city of Jerusalem). Although Jordan lost the West Bank
territory to Israel in 1967, Jordan contended that the attempt to take control over it
was fundamental to its foreign policies. This began what Smith (2004) calls a
“marriage of convenience” (p. 229) between Arafat and King Hussein. In the years to follow, Jordan and Palestine would endure a contentious relationship: Jordan’s
mistrust of Arafat and the PLO, and Palestinian mistrust of Jordan’s handling of the
Palestinian question.
In February, [1985] King Husayn and Yasir Arafat reached agreement on the terms of a dialogue and their objectives. They called for a Palestinian state on the West Bank that would include East Jerusalem, but this “state” would exist in confederation with Jordan, whose ruler would have final authority over it…Jordanian officials said that Arafat, by accepting inclusion in a confederation with Jordan, was implicitly
31 abandoning the 1928 PLO Charter that called for Palestinian statehood in what was now Israel. This means acceptance of Israel’s existence, to be acknowledged openly if a settlement were reached. (Smith, 2004, p.396)
This accord, though seemingly progressive, was riddled with drawbacks; both would
have preferred autonomy over the West Bank without the other. These unresolved
conflicts simmered beneath the surface and gave way for the intifada. Everything was coming to a head for the people; they grew increasingly tired of being spoken for in the international community, refusal to give legitimacy to self-sovereignty, and tensions with both Jordanians and Israelis mounted. The intifada was “a spontaneous eruption of hatred and frustration, but it represented years of anger, directed mostly at
Israel but to a certain extent also at the external Palestinian leadership” (Smith, 2004, p. 399). One some level the intifada was also a response to the remaining old pro-
Jordanian West bank elites. A majority of those who participated in the intifada were youth, who grew angry at the older generations’ submission to Israel.
At the same time, a new generation of Arabs was emerging in the territories. Born under Israeli rule, they questioned their parents’ submission to the daily humiliations they witnessed. For the younger generation, this submission meant capitulation to Israel where their elders had always viewed it as fortitude or endurance, sumud. (Smith, 2004, p. 401)
Jordan relinquished its control over the West Bank in 1988. The PLO and the
intifada, along with growing Palestinian-Jordanian tensions convinced King Hussein
that his credibility as the spokesperson for the Palestinian question was not likely.
On July 31, 1988, evidently despairing of success in setting up an international conference, perhaps seeing in the Intifada a threat to his own kingdom, and realizing that, indeed, the Palestinians, especially the younger generation, would never accept him as their spokesperson, King Hussein of Jordan renounced his claim to the West Bank, which in effect reversed the annexation decision made in 1950. “The
32 independent Palestinian state will be established on occupied Palestinian land after is liberation, God willing,” Hussein stated. Although Jordan continued administration of the daily affairs of the West Bank, the PLO gradually took some responsibility for funding these activities. The Jordanian monarch distanced himself even further from the PLO. On August 7, 1988, he stated that Jordan would not be part of a Jordanian-Palestinian delegation in any peace process (Bikerton & Klausner, 1998, p. 231).
Palestinian elites then took over the area and in public deliberations Palestinian elites
(Arafat and his cronies after their return from Oslo) agreed that this decision best
served both Jordanian and Palestinian interests. Throughout the 1990s Jordan made a
conscious attempt to remove itself from the idea of Palestinian political unity (Lynch,
1999).
In the early 1990’s, a new sense of hope and optimism took hold of the world
regarding the Israeli-Palestinian conflict. In secret negotiations between Israelis and
Palestinians, hopes were high that a peace settlement would ensue. The withdrawal of Israeli troops from Gaza and Jericho was the first step (Bickerton & Klausner,
1998, p.269). Withdrawal of Israeli troops meant Palestinians would begin to take hold of all internal affairs. “Early empowerment” would apply to the West Bank where Israeli military would hand over power to the Palestinians (Bickerton &
Klausner, 1998, p.269).
33 Refugees and Palestinian Diasporas
After World War II, refugees became an international concern (Waters &
LeBlanc, 2005; Boaz & Schoenberg, 2002). As a result, the national and
international community along with non-governmental institutions collectively joined
to protect refugee human rights (Waters & LeBlanc, 2005). Refugee camps grew out
of the need to accommodate 11 million who were displaced after the war (Waters &
LeBlanc, 2005, pp. 132-133). The United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees
(UNHCR) was founded in response to the refugee presence in order to provide an
international body for the protection of refugees (Waters & LeBlanc, 2005; Boaz &
Schoenberg, 2002).
This is an important point because now the plight of refugees became the
responsibility of an international organization. Essentially, the UNHCR became a pseudo nation-state because while it took on the responsibility of refugees, it did not have national ties to the countries that refugees sought protection in, nor in the countries they fled from. This meant that while protection was being provided by the international organization, it could also indoctrinate the populations it helps with its own objectives.
It is crucial to define the term “refugees” for the purpose of this literature
review. According to the Convention relating to the Status of Refugees of 1951,
refugee status is given to a person who:
[O]wing to a well-founded fear of being persecuted for reasons of race, religion, nationality, membership of a particular social group, or political opinion, is outside the country of his nationality, and is unable to or, owing to such fear, is unwilling to avail himself of the protection of that country...
34 While this body does not include Internally Displaced Persons (IDPs), the UNHCR addresses people forced to leave their homes within a country out of force. The
UNHCR maintains that IDPs:
[F]lee their homes for the same reasons as refugees, but remain within their own country and are thus subject to the laws of that state. Though it does not have a specific mandate for IDPs, UNHCR assists several million in various crises, but not all of the estimated 25 million displaced persons worldwide. (UNHCR, 2006)
These definitions are essential when discussing the Palestinian refugees and
setting the stage for investigating refugee education. An irony in this tragic time in
history is that in attempting to solve the refugee problem for the Jews after the
Holocaust, there is the birth of another refugee problem: the Palestinians after Israeli
occupation. The sadness lies in the similarity of the Palestinian and Israeli cases:
displacement, racism, ethnic cleansing and global silence in the midst of blatant
oppression.
During the second half of the 20th century the number and magnitude of
Diasporas have significantly increased. Consequently, their importance as economic, political, and social actors is continuously growing. The Diaspora’s new expanded role impacts not only guest states, but homelands as well. This phenomenon has prompted host and home governments to establish relationships with their respective
Diaspora communities. The various types of interactions between Diasporas with guest states and homelands can result in the making or unmaking of Diasporas.
However, the outcome is dependent on the way in which Diasporas adapt to changes in state policies concerning foreigners.
35 Diaspora-host state interaction has evolved into several common forms based
on integration, hostility, persecution, symbiosis, separatism, negotiation, and
violence. The Palestinian Diaspora’s interaction with the different Arab states,
following the creation of Israel, was one of friendliness and mutual integration
(Harik, 1986, p.316). This was partly due to the immense cultural commonality
between the Palestinians and their host Arab states. In addition, the bond between
Palestinians and Syrians, Egyptians, Lebanese, Jordanians and other Arabs solidified
as they focused on the “devil,” Zionists (Harik, 1986, p.321). The Palestinian
Diaspora in the Middle East enjoyed a favorable relationship with its Arabic hosts,
which is a rarity in terms of Diaspora-host state interaction.
The unity between the Palestinian Diaspora and their guest states was primarily the result of the people’s will. Many Arabs were infuriated with the developments leading up to the creation of Israel and forced their respective governments into action. Thus, mutual integration occurred where the issues shaping the identity of Palestinians grew into something bigger, Arab nationalism. In addition, the Diaspora’s concerns and goals had now become part of the host governments’ political objectives as well. However, with the consecutive Jordanian, Egyptian, and
Syrian defeats to Israel, along with the Palestinian Liberation Organization’s political blunders, the Palestinian Diaspora’s standing was adversely effected (Harik, 1986).
36 Black September and Palestinian Resistance Movements
While on the whole Palestinian Diasporas have more or less been tranquil, in
the late 1960s-early 1970s, Jordanians and Palestinians were experiencing another
reality. Jordanians and Palestinians confronted one another as inter-societal tensions
brewed. The formation of Palestinian guerrilla movements began developing since
the years following the Arab-Israeli war of 1967 (Hudson, 1972). Fateh (the
Palestinian Liberation Movement) had emerged as the most successful and
“structurally complex guerilla movement” (Hudson, 1972, p. 67). Fateh slowly began
to make its presence known in Jordan by establishing itself as a government within
the country. However it was unable to assert total authority and power over
Palestinian revolutionary groups of Marxist-Maoist-Leninist organizations such as the
Popular Front for the Liberation of Palestine (PFLP). In 1968 the PFLP became a
faction of the PLO (Council on Foreign Relations [CFR], 2006).
In September 1970, the Palestinians attempted to intimidate King Hussein.
The PLO and factions of Palestinian guerilla groups throughout Jordan were taking part in guerilla attacks against Israel from bases in Jordan—disrespecting both King
Hussein and the Jordanian people. The fedayeen (freedom fighters—“those who sacrifice themselves”) were hard to control, thus making a mockery of the Jordanian army (Bickerton & Klausner, 1998, p. 123). The tension came to a climax when the
PFLP gangs hijacked three planes (CFR, 2006). The hijackings were very significant because the PFLP landed the planes at an abandoned Jordanian air base, essentially letting the King know he could not control his own country. Ultimately the PFLP as
37 well as many of the Palestinian guerilla groups were unable to exert the power and
effect they desired.
As far as the superpowers were concerned, the Palestinians injected an element of instability into the local political-military situation and a consequent additional risk of great-power confrontation. Thus, when Jordan and the United States moved to eliminate guerilla activities from Jordan the Palestinians found that they had no effective outside supporters. (Hudson, 1972, p.64)
Although the guerilla groups were not able to sustain their long term political and
military intentions, they indeed were able to shock the social order. As Hudson
(1972) asserts, “from 1968 through 1970, the Palestinians were able to apply
important political and psychological pressure against Israel” (p. 66).
It was a widely held belief and grand conspiracy among Jordanian citizens
that Arafat was attempting to overthrow King Hussein for what appeared to be
appeasing Israelis at the cost of Palestinians. Neither Arafat nor Fateh were initially
involved in a conspiracy to overthrow the King, rather it was the PFLP, a radical
Palestinian faction which advocated a pan-Arabist vision within a communist
framework. The King and his military then retaliated by attempting to expel the
entire PLO in a move now referred to as “Black September.” Palestinian and PLO
anger stemmed from Jordanian-Israeli relations, more specifically Jordan’s inability to confront Israel more directly. However, this bloody attempt to make a public statement yielded minimal results. The effects of Black September were long lasting and so began the implementation of “concerted government policy of ‘Jordanization’ or ‘de-Palestinization’ which enfeebled the Palestinians’ status in the kingdom’s key power centers” (Reiter, 2004, p. 74).
38 Jordan and Palestine, Twins?
In terms of Jordanian-Palestinian political, social and military relations, I have always been under the impression that Jordanians and Palestinians had the best of
relations. Incessant references to Jordan as the vanguard of the Palestinian cause
instilled in me a twofold impression: the unshakeable bond between Jordanians and
Palestinians, and second the idea that without the aid of Jordan, Palestinians would
live in far more dire conditions had it not been for the Jordanian government. I
naively internalized these to be truths.
In my attempt to understand the inter-societal relationships between both
peoples led to the birth of this study, but I was still unsure about the role history
played in current realities. It was an assumption on my part that the new King
Abdullah and his attempts to westernize the country were to blame for inter-societal
tensions. While this might be on some level true, it was not the entire picture and I
was quick to refute my own hypothesis. I learned that Jordan and Palestine have a
long legacy, one that cannot be oversimplified as good or bad. Rather, the only word that does the relationship and justice is “complex.”
The Jordanian-Israeli settlement also spurred tensions between Palestinians
and Jordanians, mainly because Palestinians were left out of the U.S.-led peace
process. However, the peace talks between Israel and Jordan had another major
player, none other than the United States. The United States ultimately controlled the dialogue and pressured Jordan to settle, or face the thinly veiled threat of financial
repercussions. According to Zunes (1995), the “Clinton administration appears effectively to have bought an Israeli-Jordanian settlement. And, by dragging out the
39 debt forgiveness over three years, it ensures continued Jordanian cooperation with
American regional designs” (p.61). However, Zunes contends (1995) Jordan got
many of its demands met by caving in to Israeli interests. In other words, while
Jordan initially had many demands for Israelis in terms of Palestinian welfare, those
became clouded by financial benefits for Jordanians.
While Jordan initially refused to sign the treaty unless Israel withdrew from
the Occupied Territories, and at the very least from the West Bank and Gaza,
eventually pressure from the United States resulted in Jordan’s abandonment of their demands (Zunes, 1995). The signing of this peace treaty according to Frisch (2004),
“was the turn of the Palestinian leadership to express its umbrage towards Jordan” (p.
55). While Palestinians felt that their interests were excluded from the signing of the peace treaty, Jordan in essence, had no other choice. The decision to sign the agreement under financial pressures, afforded Jordan financial stability, which essentially immensely helps Palestinians living in Jordan. The Palestinian Liberation
Organization (PLO) did not share these sentiments and neither did many Palestinians.
Lynch (1999) accurately assesses the situation: “The very future of Palestinians in
Jordan remains unresolved, because the Oslo accords and the Jordanian-Israeli peace treaty defer discussion of the Palestinian refugees to multilateral talks” (p. 320).
A theme threaded throughout the research literature is the notion of Jordan
and Palestine as a family. Families argue and bicker, sometimes a financial and
social burden, but they are family nonetheless. The Jordanian Minister of
Information, Nasir Jawda even said that there was a “real twinship (tawa’ma)
between Jordan and Palestine” (Jawda in Frisch, 2004, p. 61). However, Frisch
40 (2004) argues that even twins have distinct and individual identities. Soon Jordanian
and Palestinian identities were forming, but were these dual identities represented in
society? It is worth exploring whether or not Jordanian and Palestinian domestic
relations within Jordan would be the same if Jordan was a republic. In other words,
the reality of Palestinians outnumbering Jordanians in their own country if it were a
republic would most likely reap greater political representation within and extending
Jordan. For example Jordanian policies would arguably be more representative of its
population’s sentiment.
An agreement in 1995 signed by both Palestinians and Jordanians sought to
reconnect the twins that had grown apart, and so, the re-unification of the Jordanian-
Palestinian General Agreement for Cooperation and Coordination was signed (Frisch,
2004, p. 61). Pan-Arabism and the unity among “two fraternal peoples” became the mantra and collective thought process of the two countries. It became the moniker for Arab unity (Frisch, 2004). Zunes (1995) articulately states, however, that the
intention behind signing the treaty may have been Jordanian and Palestinian realization that any conflict or dissent between them benefits Israelis most. Israel’s divide and conquer objective had been beneficial because they had been “taking advantage of the separate deals in their highly selective implementation of various clauses of the agreements” (Zunes, 1995, p. 66).
The second theme is the apparent internalized oppression of the Arab people,
and not just strictly speaking of the Palestinians. This is an admittedly contradictory
statement, because I believe that the tragedy that is now the modern Arab world is
(contrary to popular belief) a testament to the resilience of the Arab peoples.
41 However, that is not to say that westernization and globalization have not affected
Arab countries and their diplomatic relations. Jordan, for instance, in signing the
Israeli-Jordanian treaty sent the message that the plight of the Palestinians was not important enough to halt or dramatically impact negotiations.
Jordan in many cases (for lack of a better term) is between a rock and a hard
place, which may very well be the reason it appears to hold seemingly hypocritical
political stances. While harboring most of the Palestinian refugees in the world, offering national citizenship, as a country with no natural resource, is also an ally to the United States, and one of two countries in the Middle East to recognize the state of Israel. At its core, Jordan has dueling identities.
United States-Middle East Foreign Relations
It is important to investigate the United States’ presence in the Middle East for
several reasons; first, the hegemonic and imperialist actions of the United States in
both the Israeli-Palestinian conflict and the war in Iraq must be closely examined in
order to understand possible Arab resentment. Further, United States’ dealings with
Israel on numerous occasions collude and facilitate in furthering Palestinian suffering.
Finally, Jordan’s relationship with the United States and the reality of Palestinian
suffering at the hands of United States-Israeli policies are possible factors in divisions
between Palestinians and Jordanians. It appears the United States is at the center of
Palestinians’ continued disenfranchisement from their host country and their
continued exclusion from their homeland, two issues at the core of the Palestinians’
interaction with their Jordanian counterparts. In other words, Palestinians partially
42 react to unfavorable United States policies through their relationship with Jordan due to their host country’s seemingly close ties with the United States.
United States’ Role in Israel’s Occupation, Colonization, and Oppression of Palestine
I think one of the most important points that I try to stress to peers is that in
the analysis of Palestinian terrorism, violence, Hamas popularity, and the spread of
Islamic fundamentalism, one must look at the direct correlation with both Israeli and
US foreign policy (Khalidi, 2004; Smith, 2004; Zunes, 2003). One might find it very surprising just how much aid Israel receives. While a vast majority of the aid goes back to United States arms manufacturers (in the form of debt repayment), it is very important to present the numbers, because they speak for themselves:
For Fiscal Year 2003, 72% of U.S. foreign aid allotted to the Middle East was military as opposed to just 28% for economic development. The $3.8 billion in military aid is well over 90% of what the United States gives the entire world. (Zunes, 2003, p. 41)
Zunes (2003) continues:
For a country that consists of one-tenth of one percent of the world’s population, total U.S. aid to Israel as a proportion of the foreign aid budget is enormous: approximately one out of every four dollars for foreign aid goes to Israel. Israel does not receive this kind of support because it is poor—Israel’s GNP is higher than the combined GNP of its immediate neighbors Egypt, Lebanon, Syria, Jordan, the West Bank and Gaza Strip. With a per capita income of $18,000, Israeli Jews enjoy the sixteeth per capita income in the world, better off than oil rich Saudi Arabia and only slightly less well-off than most Western European countries [emphasis added]. (pp. 110-111)
On some level, this number is not only appalling, but essentially an abandonment of the countries that need more aid and assistance, especially given not only how well
Israel has managed to do economically, but also militarily. The US not only in its
43 direct relations with Israel manipulates (and without question supports) the
occupation of Palestine, it does so in the global community as well.
Why does Israel receive this money if it is not a poor country? Claims are
made that financial assistance is necessary to facilitate the peace process, but history
has shown that Israel has no intention of ending its human rights abuses, and on many
occasions it has rejected Palestinian calls for peace. Further, it is a common
misconception that the Jewish lobbies in the United States hold so much power, that
politicians are forced to lean in one direction—oftentimes with the Israeli
government. However, while the Jewish lobbies are powerful, the extent of their
power is limited and oftentimes exaggerated (Zunes, 2003). The real interest in Israel
lies in military, economic, political, and strategic interests of the United States.
Clearly, the United States now has a huge base in the Middle East, and thus a
“genuine” interest in Israeli affairs (Zunes, 2003). Placing blame however on Jewish lobbies is just another way of displacing the issue and blame as there seems to be a reinforcing cycle between the United States’ arms industry, aid given to Israel by the
United States, and Israel’s appetite for newer and more effective weaponry. In essence, the United States’ government finances its military arms industry through billions of dollars of aid to Israel, which in turn consumes an endless array of war technologies from its financier.
The role of the United Nations on the question of Palestine, while far from
perfect, is at least somewhat of a presence (especially in the refugee camps). At least,
some would argue, the United Nations has brought attention to the plight of
Palestinians, unlike the United States that mainly adds fury and almost with a sick
44 sense of humor, pities the Israeli nation-state for its inability to have peace (without
even acknowledging the hopelessness in Palestine).
More critically, between 1972 and 2001, the United States used its veto power in the Security council thirty-nine times to block resolutions critical of Israeli policies in the occupied territories, more than all other countries have used their veto on all other issues during this period combined [emphasis added]. (Zunes, 2004, p.115)
United States policies on some level oppress Israelis as well, by thwarting peace movements from taking place. After all, it is the everyday citizens that must
suffer once again. There is no doubt that the United States, by enabling Palestinian
occupation and oppression, breeds hostility and enables chaos to persist. Therefore, it
is guilty of thinly veiled anti-Semitic policies that wreak havoc on the people is seeks
to protect. If the United States cared so much about Israelis and about peace, it would
have happened by now; but the truth is, it has no interest in peace. So long as there is
no peace between Israelis and Palestinians, the United States will have to remain a
dominant figure in the conflict. As Zunes (2003) names it, the United States
government cares less about peace and more about Pax Americana. In other words,
Pax Americana is where the dominant power debilitates the real interest of the people
inhabiting the land.
West Bank and the Gaza Strip are open-air prisons (Zunes, personal
communications, June 22, 2006). The human rights violations run rampant. The
building of the wall and the constant bulldozing (now daily activities) have been
approved by almost all US government officials—both democrat and republican. The
United States has exerted its veto power in the United Nations Security Council more
than the remaining countries in the Security Council combined, to veto any matter
45 questioning Israel’s treatment of Palestinians. It has become exceedingly apparent
only allies of the United States are protected from human rights violations.
The Universal Declaration of Human Rights is recognized by the United
States and the global community as international and human rights law. Article 13 of the Declaration guarantees the right of refugees to leave their country. More importantly it recognizes peoples’ rights to return to their homeland. For twenty years the United States excluded the PLO from participating in peace talks because of the PLO’s refusal to acknowledge UN Security Council resolutions 242 and 338 as the foundation for negotiation (Zunes, 2003). When the resolutions were finally accepted and addressed by the PLO as the foundation for peace talks in 1988, “the
U.S. essentially dropped these resolutions as the basis of peace talks” (Zunes, 2003, p.
117). President Clinton reversed its support for universal application (Zunes, 2003).
Even prior to severing with the international law, rarely was the “right of return” ever mentioned, only the “right to leave” was highlighted.
This is also strategic; if Palestinian refugees dating as far back as 1948 were
allowed to return, they would outnumber their Israeli counterparts. Further, emphasis
on the right to leave gives the impression that Palestinians have relocated and
therefore there is less need for a recognized nation-state. It is abundantly clear the
United States supports human rights violations of its allies (Morocco, Israel, Turkey) and condemns the violations of otherwise strategically useless countries.
A large majority of countries in that region [Middle East] lack democratic institutions and engage in a consistent pattern of gross and systematic human rights violations. In addition, three major recipients of U.S. aid—Morocco, Israel and Turkey—have conquered all or parts of neighboring countries by force, engaged in ethnic cleansing, and continue to subjugate the population of these occupied territories in
46 defiance of the Geneva Convention and the United States. (Zunes, 2002, p. 10)
And so, the systematic ethnic cleansing of countless Palestinians goes unnoticed.
A theme that surfaces from the research is a parallel between United States history and the history (and birth) of Israel. Both countries were born with the simultaneous occupation of another people. Khalidi (2004) so accurately depicts the parallel: “Americans were even more apt than Europeans to identify with lurid images of brave, outnumbered settlers of European stock taming an arid land in the face of opposition from ignorant, fanatical nomads…” (p. 119). Khalidi (2004) very accurately furthers his argument in testifying that some lives are more valuable than others—and that if one is not Israeli or American, the value of life depreciates.
Further, the value of life is still certainly determined (in colonial terms) by who lives in the core versus who lives in the periphery.
Khalidi (2004), Smith (2004), and Zunes (2003) do what our governments
have not had the guts to: highlight the atrocities on both sides of the Israeli
Palestinian conflict, and emphasize the importance of accountability that Israeli and
Palestinian governments must face. Moreover, it is the role that the United States has
to confront if peace were ever to materialize.
Through a mixture of guilt regarding Western anti-Semitism, personal friendships with Jewish Americans who identify strongly with Israel, and fear of inadvertently encouraging anti-Semitism by criticizing Israel, there is enormous reluctance to acknowledge the seriousness of Israeli violations of human rights and international law. (Zunes, 2003, p. 157)
47 The United States and United Nations Security Resolutions 242 and 338
The United States has formally and publicly supported UN Security
resolutions 242 and 338 that call for Israeli withdrawal of the Occupied Territories
that were seized in the 1967 War, where in return Israel is afforded security
guarantees from its neighbors, as the basis for peace. However, dating as far back as
1969, the United States has encouraged Israel to hold on to the Occupied Territories.
The United States has also declined on numerous occasions an international
conference calling for an all-inclusive peace settlement instead of the routine
exclusion of the Palestinian government in peace talks.
The United States has a vested interest in maintaining a stronghold over Israeli
Palestinian conflict geopolitically and strategically. Finally in the mid-1970s, the
United States allowed the PLO to engage in peace talks on account that they consent to three objectives: renouncing terrorism, acknowledging UN Security resolutions
242 and 338 as the foundation for peace, and recognizing Israel’s right to exist
(Zunes, 2003). While the three stipulations are in and of themselves equitable, what was unjust was that the United States’ demand did not include Israel. In other words,
Israel did not have to renounce terrorism, acknowledge UN Security resolutions 242 or 338, nor did it have to recognize Palestine’s right to exist.
The burden fell solely on Palestine and two presidential administrations
(Carter and Reagan) came in and out of office, when in 1988 the PLO finally came to
terms with all three stipulations without a reciprocal recognition from Israel (Zunes,
2003). Talks were then taken off the table by the United States because it felt that the
48 PLO was not critical enough of terrorist attacks against Israel by a small Palestinian
faction.
After countless attempts, why is it that peace still has not been attained? In
large part, the United States is culpable. The United States does not have peace
because its political authorities have little interest in achieving peace in the Middle
East, more specifically in Israel/Palestine (Zunes, 2003). Contrary to popular notions
that Jewish lobbies are the reason, United States foreign policy is much more the
rationale for continued hostilities in the region. The stronger Israel is, the stronger the
United States presence in the Middle East. In short, United States foreign policy is an elite enterprise (Zunes, personal communication, June 22, 2006). One does not have to be an Islamic fundamentalist or terrorist to see that what the United States is doing is embarking on a neo-colonial venture in the Middle East. One only has to educate themselves to see that neo-apartheid is taking place while the global community turns its back. Neo-apartheid as stated here is defined as a new waive of exclusion based on recently established legal, economic, and cultural divisions. This contemporary phenomenon is demonstrated by the emergence of The Wall, Jewish only highways, and pro-Israeli education.
49 Oslo Accords
The Oslo Accords memorialized Israel’s recognition of the Palestinian
Liberation Organization (PLO) as the legitimate representative agent for the
Palestinian people, and in return the PLO denounced terrorism, the destruction of
Israel and recognized Israel’s right to existence. Further, the agreement formed the
Palestinian National Authority (PNA) which was to negotiate land deals with the
Israelis and govern territories until the creation of a permanent Palestinian government. The primary goal was that the PNA’s governance of the Palestinian territories would increase as Israeli troops pulled out.
The Oslo Accords provided an incremental roadmap to peace. Zunes (2003) maintains “while failing to recognize the Palestinians’ right to statehood and imposing other limitations—did provide a framework where more substantive progress towards Israeli-Palestinian peace might result” (p. 113). The Oslo Accords turned out to be more favorable for Palestinians than United States led mediations that did not even want to recognize or include the PLO in peace talks (Zunes, 2003).
The PLO formally recognized Israel’s right to exist (which it had done prior in
1988) and Israel recognized the PLO as the representatives of the Palestinian people.
It did not however, “recognize the right of the Palestinian people to statehood, self- determination, or sovereignty, or that they had the right to borders, or where those borders were” (Khalidi, 2004, p. 138). Clearly an asymmetrical agreement was reached, but it was an agreement nonetheless. This led many neighboring Arab countries to believe that the PLO achieved everything it set out for, but things slowly
50 worsened. Much of the initial optimism slowly evaporated with the continuation of the protracted violence between the two sides, culminating in the second intifada.
The United States and Iraq
In extensive research of the literature and my own critical thinking, I have come to realize the United States’ underhanded attempts at simultaneously appeasing and punishing several Middle Eastern countries throughout the years. This has been done to further the United States’ own special interests and there is no doubt that the past and current social and political realities are results of the exploitation, manipulation and racism veiled as attempts to liberate and hidden behind the notion of moral obligation.
Ideologies are very powerful, and we see the resurrection of the “white man’s burden” to spread democratic ideologies throughout the Middle East. In Khalidi’s
(2004) attempt to highlight georegional interests in the historical context, when paralleled with the current situation, an eerie resemblance emanates: “The area was of particular interest to those powers located outside the region that had ambitions of global hegemony” (p.75). Global hegemony seeks to undermine challenges to dominant theories while attempting to address those who resist conquest, colonialism, and occupation as radical fundamentalist Arabs or Muslims who hate our American freedoms; this incorrect negation has proven deadly.
Khalidi (2004) states that “oil transformed and considerably enhanced the already great geostrategic importance of the Middle East” (p. 81). I completely agree with his assertions regarding the major interest being oil. I think the vehicle used to
51 further those interests was racism, more specifically anti-Arabism and anti-Islamism
(or Islamophobia). Khalidi (2004) continues:
With the American occupation of oil-rich Iraq, however, the specter of foreign control over Middle Eastern oil emerged once again. As the new American occupation regime in Iraq took its first steps to recognize the battered Iraqi oil industry, fear of foreign control, born of decades of bitter experiences of being forced to watch others dictate the disposition of their countries’ most valuable resource, spread throughout the country and the region. (p. 117)
Therefore the common misconception among Americans regarding Arabs as people who hated western ideals and freedoms, proved futile once again. Rather, it was the history of oppression and exploitation of the region’s natural resources.
There is great validity behind Khalidi’s assertion of the history and present day Middle East and the overriding theme of resisting foreign occupation that becomes manipulated in a marketing strategy that emits “Arabs hate Americans” sentiments. It is my belief however this is a testament to the Arab resilience and pride, not anti-Americanism by any means. Khalidi (2004) describes a contradiction with the United States: the hasty and sloppy rush into the occupation and command of
Iraq and Afghanistan and the natural desire for people to resist being dictated by foreigners, even those who have good intentions.
No amount of rhetoric about democratization, even if it is occasionally sincere, and no amount of harping on the all-too-real evils perpetrated by the Taliban and the Ba’th that were mercifully ended by the intervention of the United States can outweigh this potent contradiction. As a general rule, people do not want to be ruled by others from far away, even if those rulers are well intentioned. (p. 165)
What I am coming to realize is the great self-fulfilling prophecy that the United States media and government create and re-create. In a sense, we want to view Arabs as
52 backward savages who are incapable of self-rule, and so we treat them as such and
when a small majority use forceful, unforgivable tactics of resistance and terrorism,
we point to them to validate our claims.
Zunes (2003) states “[T]here is a widespread assumption that Muslim
terrorists are religious fanatics beyond the reach of reasoning, where no offer of
negotiation or deterrence will bring them out of their insanity” (p. 171). Contrary to
this “widespread assumption” Zunes (2003, p. 171) provides a roadmap of the
differences between gross assumptions about Islam, and the actual principles that
Islam teaches and that “As with Christianity, Judaism, and most major religious faiths, the killing of innocent civilians is considered a sin in Islam. Similarly, there is nothing in traditional Islamic teachings that justifies suicide in any situation, much less suicide bombings” (p. 171).
This is not to say there is not growing anti-American sentiment, because
without a doubt, there is. Many Arabs feel this is a personal attack against their
values and morality, and their portrayal as incapable savages only perpetuates this
distrust.
The more the United States has militarized this region, the less secure the American people have become. All the sophisticated weaponry, brave fighting men and women, and brilliant military leadership the United States may possess will do little good if there are hundred of millions of people in the Middle East and beyond who hate us. (Zunes, 2003, p. 3)
Zunes (2003) very eloquently states “[M]ost Middle Easterners do not see American
democracy at work, but they do see “Made in America” on tear gas canisters and
bomb casings against civilians” (p. 7). This quote sends chills down my spine and
anger through my veins.
53 One of the quotes that struck me in reading Tinderbox: US Middle East policy and the roots of terrorism (2003) was a quote by President Bush that the war on terrorism was “the dignity of life over a culture of death…lawful change and civil disagreement over coercion, subversion, and chaos…courage defeating cruelty and light overcoming darkness” (President Bush in Zunes, 2003, p. 35). This only legitimates my claim that it is through subliminal messages and careful wording that cover racism is filtered to the general public. Even my own paranoia and hysteria are heightened, but not for reasons one might assume: I am afraid that this transfer of words is creating hatred on both sides of the globe.
Given the outright discrimination and sense of entitlement on the part of the
United States government, it is no surprise we have in fact enabled and perpetuated
terrorism to continue. All we hear about are the radical and fundamental Muslims
savagely exercising their hatred for the United States. There is no question this
sentiment does indeed exist. So cleverly and tactically crafted was American
rhetoric, even I as an Arab began to think that jihad only meant holy war. I began to
internalize that maybe I misunderstood what it meant. It was validating and
reaffirming to know I was not so far off and the notion and definition of jihad was
being spun. Esposito (2002) defines:
Jihad as struggle pertains to the difficulty and complexity of living a good life: struggling against evil in oneself in order to be virtuous and moral, making a serious effort to do good works and to help to reform society. Depending on the circumstances in which one lives, it can also mean fighting injustice and oppression, spreading and defending Islam, and creating a just society through preaching, teaching, and if necessary, armed struggle or holy war. (pp. 27-28)
54 Jihad refers to a righteous (or holy) struggle. In other words there are two different jihads: one outer jihad, and one within. The problem is that the United States government and rhetoric, as well as al-Qaeda have hijacked the definition of jihad in a way that not only focuses inordinately on the external struggle, but on its most violent manifestations, thereby blurring the lines, confusing the masses, and perpetuating more Islamophobia.
In my reflections, I am coming to see that until the United States government, society, and education system try to understand the “other,” we will continue to facilitate an ‘us’ versus ‘them’ mentality. I leave with more questions than answers:
How did we get here? Where do we go from here? Will Palestinians and Israelis ever live in peace? When my children read US history in the years to come, will they see a sliver of reality amidst mass deception? One thing is for sure: as Dr. Abdel Aziz
Rantisi, a senior Hamas leader said: “Israelis will have no stability and no security until the occupation ends. Suicide bombers are Israel’s future” (Esposito, 2002, p.
100). As much as I hate to admit, I am afraid he is correct.
55 Refugee Education
Educating refugees is unlike educating any other population of people. This distinct group is different from immigrant populations because they did not choose to flee their countries of origin. External factors determine for refugees they must leave behind life as they knew it. Refugees do not have the same national identities as those in the countries where they reside, nor do they leave their identities at the border. Therefore, they are being educated about a new national identity.
Refugee culture is complex; negotiating the traumas of border-crossing (not to mention the political, economic, or social reasons for leaving), negotiating ethnicity and a new national identity, and finally, creating a new life in a new place. In my examination of refugee education in general, three themes arose: assimilation to the national identity in education, pseudo-state top-down indoctrination, and finally, the absence of a global and human rights education.
Palestinian Refugees in Jordan
While Jordan has been good to its Palestinian counterpart, compared to many countries that harbor refugees, that fact does not render them flawless. Palestinian refugees reside in 13 camps throughout Jordan; no other country has done as much for Palestinian refugees as Jordan, going so far as to ensure stability of refugees by offering refugees Jordanian nationality (Department of Palestinian Affairs, 2006).
The Department of Palestinian Affairs (DPA) is a government body that ensures livable conditions of Palestinian refugees in the camps and protects from violation of human rights, all the while claiming and protecting the right of return for citizens
(DPA, 2006).
56 Refugee Camp Environment
The environment of refugee camps is described in great detail throughout this review of the literature, but in this subsection, it is important to offer a brief synopsis.
The refugee camp environment may oftentimes have adverse effects on Palestinian youth. Al-Simadi and Atoum’s (2000) study of over 250 seventh graders living in a
Palestinian refugee camp, indicated parent-child relationships as the most difficult, as well as negative self-concept (including, jealousy, shyness, and laziness). The authors argue that both of these findings might be consistent with Arabic culture— parent-child relationships are often patriarchal and authoritarian, which might then lead to lower self-concepts. However, they also acknowledge that self-concept could be lower and more negative because of the environment. Either way, they offer possible correlations without testing either factor.
One way to test the correlation between environment or Arab culture on both self-concept and parent-child relationships could have been to assess both Jordanians and Palestinians. Both are members of the Arab world, and live in the same country, therefore the elimination or presence of correlation could be attributed to either the
“Arab culture” as Al-Simadi & Atoum (2000) stated, or to environment (i.e. living in the camps or economic factors versus mainstream society). Furthermore, as Khawaja
(2003) states, “Camp refugees are employed largely in informal economic activities with low wages, long hours, and…thus, poverty among the employed segment of this population is quite common” (p. 31). Those factors surely must have an effect on the psyche of children (and adults for that matter), but none are actually tested in the Al-
Simadi & Atoum (2000) study.
57 Khawaja & Tiltnes (2002) show those who received less than basic education
in Jordan were at 58 percent in 1996 as opposed to refugees at 76 percent in 1999.
While these numbers are shocking and stir emotions, something is flawed about the
quantitative data; for instance, there is a three year gap in the research. Therefore the discrepancy in numbers may very well be due to lapse in time. These factors are not
mentioned in the study. Nevertheless, the authors contend that 10,000 Palestinian refugees under the age of 45 are unable to read and write properly. Khawaja (2003) highlights the importance of education for those living in the camps stating that “the impact of education is strong and consistent—adults with less than basic education
are 2.4 times more likely to be in poverty compared to those with at least secondary
education” (p. 45). What we begin to see is a high correlation between level of
education and poverty.
Ethnicity Versus National Identity: An “Us” Versus “Them” Mentality
“Palestine is Jordan and Jordan is Palestine; there is one people and one land, with one history and one and the same fate.” Prince Hassan, brother of King Hussein, addressing the Jordanian National Assembly, 2nd February 1970
The loss of ethnicity seems a sacrifice for those who are anxious for inclusion
and being a part of the national identity. In the case of national integration, the
foregoing of one’s ethnicity is a small price to pay; it is a small “consequence” in the
bigger picture. The maintenance and sustainability of one’s authentic heritage and
place in the earth is traded in for a grander better way of life—a life of national pride.
As “a cultural system, nationalism is a special sort of ideology that attempts to
articulate the genius of locally established structures of meaning with symbolic forms
selectively drawn from the wider world” (Stutzman, 1981, p. 55). Stutzman (1981)
58 contends that ideologies are just that- ideologies, flawed and insufficient by their very
definition. For refugees, with no land or country to call home, their ethnic identity is
oftentimes all they have.
UNRWA and the Jordanian government have worked very hard to improve
the education of refugees (Khawaja & Tiltnes, 2002). Public education is arguably
the dissemination of national identity, however refugees do not share in the collective national identity, and therefore, education does not necessarily reflect diverse populations. The story of the formation of a Jordanian national identity is an interesting one because Jordan’s borders were drawn by British forces in the 1920s
(Nasser, 2004). It was then known as Transjordan. During its formative era (1948-
67) the cultural identity of Jordanians was the promotion of pan-Arabism and pan-
Islamism. By promoting what Nasser (2004) calls macro identification, Jordanian textbooks overlooked Palestinian identity. He states:
The individual’s identity is directly transmuted into identification with a regional and universal entity like Arab and Muslim. By advocating this type of identification, local differences become less significant and are assimilated into external solidarity with the Arab and Islamic world. (p. 255)
The national identity discourse, therefore, left out a great number of people;
Palestinians and Christians, for instance, became excluded from the national identity.
Frisch (2004) states that the Jordanian-Palestinian relationship is “being two peoples
that are part of one nation and thus ultimately of one destiny” (p. 71). Moreover, Hart
(2002) notes “Palestine, in contrast is rarely mentioned and when this occurs it is
predominantly done from a Jordanian or pan-Arab perspective” (p. 40).
59 Therefore, the emphasis is on highlighting the similarities of Palestinians and
Jordanians as Arabs, rather than ethnic diversity. It is interesting to note that
Jordanian national identity is a branch of the great Arab identity, and focus on the
collective takes away from the diverse ethnicities present throughout Jordan. While
Nasser (2004) examines old textbooks and the exclusion of Palestinian national identity, Hart (2002) investigates Palestinian notions of nationalism in a refugee camp in the present day. Hart (2002) contends with Nasser (2004) that “many of their expressions of belonging refer not only to distinct nations but also demonstrate
engagement with wider, transnational processes as well” (Hart, 2002, p. 36).
However, Hart (2002) also addresses that refugee camps become communities within the greater social context—in other words, a community within a community.
As Hart (2002) maintains, Palestinian refugee children are taught to hold on to
hopes of repatriation. Furthermore, the overriding hope is younger generations will
become agents of change in their community, and for that to happen, a strong sense of
what it means to be a Palestinian refugee is instilled. While this is very encouraging,
the Jordanian national identity discourse is never far behind.
Westernization is a top priority because the more Western countries such as
Jordan become, the more lenience they are awarded. In other words, the more Jordan
allies itself with the United States, the more aid, protection and oil they are afforded.
King Abdullah II has made clear his interests in globalization and building bridges
with the international community (Ryan, 2004). The overriding (rhetorical) question
through it all, however, is whether or not nationalism gives birth to some of the great
calamities of our time by masking the great injustices of the world—genocide,
60 famine, war, women’s rights violations, and the list goes on. The nationalism agenda
for Jordan to some degree means having to give up what you are for what you want to
become.
Jordan’s progress into the 21st century is shaped by an imperial legacy which
it attempts to reclaim as an Arab state. Under British rule Jordan’s monarchy
benefited from friendly and advantageous relationships with western powers.
However, Jordan’s desire to invoke Arab nationalism in an effort to coalesce various
factions within its country seeks to mute and pacify opposition to the Monarchy. This
nationalistic endeavor is undermined by Jordan’s current close ties with western
countries that seek to erode and warp Arab nationalism by encouraging “modern”
Arabism to be in the best interest of the Arab world. Consequently, Palestinians
(more specifically refugees) retain their identity and long to return to Palestine despite
having never left Jordan. This phenomenon seems in part a reaction to Jordan’s
cooperation with western powers despite Jordan’s attempts to reclaim and disseminate Jordanian identity.
Indoctrination of Pseudo Nation-state Objectives and Agendas: The Hidden Curriculum “[T]here is a fundamental tension between international control and national implementation” (Samoff, 2003, p. 61).
The United Nations and other international organizations hold an advantage
over countries when it comes to addressing refugees. It holds universal assumptions rather than the ideologies and foreign policy interests that cloud the interests of the
country and its inhabitants (Zunes, 2004). However, the across-the-board universality
poses some problems as well. For instance, where is the voice of the refugees? It
61 appears what these organizations do is speak for and on behalf of refugees using a
top-down approach, rather than really implementing a bottom-up mentality. Samoff
(2003) articulately discusses the gaps in research that come out of funding agencies,
by stating:
The mass of studies and recommendations that emanate from the funding agencies reflect little or no attention, for example, to fostering an inquiring and critical orientation among learners, eliminating discrimination and reducing elitism, promoting national unity, preparing young people for the rights and obligations of citizenship, equipping them to work cooperatively and resolve conflicts nonviolently, or developing among learners a strong sense of individual and collective competence, self-reliance, and self- confidence (p. 71).
The presence of international pseudo nation-states, while on the one hand is great, on
the other creates another problem. In Jordan, the UNRWA along with the Jordanian
government provides great help and assistance to refugees in the camps. As I write,
however, whispers that UNRWA is going to cut funding are spreading throughout
Jordan (personal communication, 2006). Nevertheless, UNRWA is a pseudo nation- state in Jordan that provides invaluable help—albeit controlling much of the goings
on in the camps.
62 International Models of Peace Education
This section investigates international models of peace education, mainly in
Israel/Palestine. Although these efforts to create unity are not located in the Occupied
Territories, they represent models of education nonetheless. The point of this segment is to illustrate the challenges and strategies that educators and students face as models for Jordanians and Palestinians for enhanced coexistence.
Inclusive Education
One of the foremost models of peace education in Israel/Palestine is in Neve
Shalom/Wahat al-Salam, a village just outside of Tel Aviv. The founding of the
School for Peace was an attempt to create an environment wherein Jews and Arabs
could coexist and live within a “social, cultural and political framework of equality
and mutual respect” (Feuerverger 1997, p. 17). It is here, in the School of Peace,
where Jewish and Palestinian teens can come and be privy to one another devoid of
threat. Workshops are a major component of the program, led by one Palestinian and
one Jew, that aim to bring an awareness of self and other in an attempt to provide
clarity and peace of mind to both hurting groups of hurting youth. Dialogue is
encouraged, and collaboration is embodied in the pairing of Ahmed and Tirzah, the
leaders. The teenagers are encouraged to vocalize their feelings of hatred and fear,
because the dialogues aim to legitimate the voices and authenticate the true course of
the dialogue—absent of interruptions.
The School for Peace is an exemplary program, with praiseworthy educators
that aim to create a safe environment and call for “a shared consciousness toward
building a sense of moral development in the midst of violence and enmity”
63 (Feuerverger, 1997, p. 20). Instruction in two languages is a main component of the
school’s success, and Feuerverger maintains that the inclusion of both Arabic and
Hebrew is symbolic of mutuality to both peoples. Collaboration is essential to the
program’s success as it is an example to youth that in times of war, opposing sides
can come together and discuss their differences with words, not missiles. This is a
community wide effort to not only maintain peace but also create an authentic place
wherein the inhabitants could become critical thinkers and examiners of the realities
they face, thus navigating a call for change, and peace.
Feldash and Lemish (1997) also discuss an unorthodox approach to collaborative teaching and learning in the classroom. Their study takes a look at an
intercultural project at a Jewish only school aimed at exposing some of the injustices
the Israeli military bestows on Palestinians. With media aids (two documentaries),
cases of the Israeli military’s inhumane treatment of Palestinians are exhibited to the
Jewish students to probe their minds and instigate a discussion. This is a very
difficult exercise, as it forces the Jewish students to abandon what they have been
taught and to envision the world in which Palestinians must survive.
The concept of collaboration here is a project that both students and the
educator undertake, in hopes that they come out the experience with an idea of life on
the other side. It is a very painful process for the students as participants to be made
aware of these injustices. Ignorance is sometimes bliss, especially when it means not
having to question all that you have been taught when what hangs in the balance is
knowing full well that these 9th graders would soon have to enlist in the very military
they witness in the documentaries. This process is a very difficult one, sometimes
64 even met with hostility, but it nevertheless gives legitimacy to their counterparts, the
Palestinians, while deconstructing the norms the Israelis had internalized.
The breeding of indifference expressed by some of the students when the
minority refused to accept the injustices carried out by some members of the Israeli
military may have stemmed from fear; fear, because the possibility that what they had
been taught all their lives was in some way flawed. This realization and act of resistance are undoubtedly painful, and as the researcher, I would attribute them to fear because what these students have to come to know and love is no longer and so, the study takes a turn for the worst; a backlash. Nationalism and loyalty to one’s country should not be questioned in the students’ minds, especially considering the fact that Israelis know the “school system serves to indoctrinate their children to a blind faith in Statist Zionism” (Feldash & Lemish, 1997 p. 21).
Bekerman’s two year study (2004) takes a multifaceted look at two bilingual
Arab/Hebrew programs and the way in which both groups negotiate ceremonial
celebrations. Bekerman contends the necessity of multicultural education as a tool
that can eliminate inter-group tensions and conflict. Parents of both Jewish and Arab
students send their children to encourage coexistence, but more importantly for
Palestinian parents because these schools offer higher educational standards. In this
study, educators join forces to balance the celebrations of Judaism, Islam and
Christianity. This is a very difficult task, given the large number of religious and
cultural observances, collective and individual. Bekerman gives examples of
ceremonies, and even of educators en masse, creatively designing and redesigning the
framework of these celebrations. One such example is the celebration of Kabbalat
65 Shishi, which initially was a success, but ceased to exists as soon as one of the teachers was reassigned. Although Beckerman argues that this was an “artificial creation,” change is slow and the attempt in and of itself is a step in the right direction.
The educators participate in collaborative and transformative teaching, knowing full well it will be a painful process in their praxis. Glazier (2004) states that “when teachers were in each other’s company, as Arab and Jew, they had to come to terms with sometimes unpleasant and conflicting ideas” (p.618). Here, one notices another theme that arises within this one (a sub-theme if you will)—that of consciousness; the awareness that educators were different, and were in the company of what they have been taught is the enemy and have tried to unlearn, in order to teach their pupils how to understand, empathize, and maintain the peace. In the process of learning about the other, pain is imminent, and one must embrace rather than avoid the discomfort in order to come out of the experience enlightened with a critical consciousness.
The overriding question in my mind is, “How can peace be taught to people
living in war?” The answer, I come to find, is that it is very difficult. Fear is an
epidemic in Israel, and in the Israeli schools, it is no different. Educators, students,
and parents alike, are all fearful of how to deal with the political pandemonium on a
daily basis. Arabic and Israeli holidays become controversial, and teachers are fearful
of the conflict that could emanate. They proceed with caution, once again fearful of
the possible outcome. In Glazier’s (2004) study, Yaffe, an Israeli educator at a
66 bilingual/bicultural school in Israel, proceeds with trepidation when leading a
discussion about Passover:
Because if I tell them that B’nai Yisrael [the sons of Israel, literally or Jews] were slaves, they’ll say ‘Okay, but what about the Arabs who come from Gaza and work for you? They are not your slaves?’
Yaffe further explained,
It is a very difficult story….To say that the Jews were slaves, they built [the Egyptians] buildings…Who builds our buildings now? Who works for us? (Glazier, 2004, p. 624)
The educators have to face these realities, knowing that there is no getting used to the
pain of divergent histories.
Glazier (2003) also observed the difficulty educators were having in talking to
students about an Arabic commemorative holiday, Land Day, wherein six Arabs were
killed protesting the Israeli takeover lands settled by Arabs. The truth of the matter
is, however, that the nature of education is in and of itself political. Any form of
education is political, and here in the United States, a discussion about Columbus Day
stirs the emotions of many.
Feuerverger’s (1997) study discusses the progress being made at the School
for Peace, which takes fear and ambivalence head on. One finding is that fear exists
among both Arabs and Jews. Both groups want recognition that they have suffered;
for Jews, acknowledging the deep fears of persecution that reside in their psyches;
and among Palestinians, a need for legitimate national identity. The Palestinian need
for a legitimate national identity cannot be overstated. Acknowledging that both
Palestinians and Jews are suffering generates fear because it runs the risk of abolishing one’s fears for the purpose of satisfying another’s. What youth (and both
67 governments, for that matter) fail to realize is that recognizing that trepidation and
fear exists among the other does not eliminate or negate one’s own fear. Hertz-
Lazarowitz (1999) echoes this notion of fear, noting that what was observed showed the distinction between hope and hopelessness at the personal and the community
level. Many people exhibited an acute sense of consciousness.
Ahmad and Szpara (2005) propose a new paradigm for peace education and dialogue; the Education for Democratic Citizenship and Peace (EDCP) paradigm.
The EDCP paradigm is a “neoliberal, citizen centered, cosmopolitan educational vision seeking to prepare caring, thoughtful, peace-loving, conscientious, independent-minded, and active citizens” (p. 15). As opposed to prior government
centered education paradigms, the EDCP is citizen centered and requires participants
to be active under the following premises: (1) local and global awareness, (2)
democratic values, (3) democratic temperament, (4) civic participation, and finally (5)
peace education. Because citizenship education and its premises in this new
paradigm necessitate democratic values, patriotism is implied. However, further
research by Martha Nussbaum (1994) makes clear that patriotism should not be
limited to one’s country, but to all of humanity. Further, recognition of human rights
education could enhance the EDCP paradigm.
Universal human rights, and engagement in the global community, not just
isolated and individual domestic issues, are necessary (Nussbaum, 1994). Dialogue is
a key element in peace and civic education, especially in conflict resolution dialogue,
because “citizens express their power and fulfill their citizenship obligation by
expressing their opinions on war and peace” (Ahmad & Szpara., 2005, p.14).
68 Judith Cochran (2005) examines conflict ridden dialogue efforts in the United
States that revolve around the Israeli Palestinian controversy. Seeds of Peace is built
on the foundations of tolerance and social change. After the bombings of the World
Trade Center in 1993, Seeds of Peace was established to bridge the fundamental
disconnect between Israeli and Palestinian teenagers from the conflict-ridden territory
so that they may come to work towards peaceful coexistence (Cochran, 2005, p. 100).
Training includes, but is not limited to “…cultural interaction, leadership training,
dialogue, and recreation. Participants are to develop listening and negotiating skills,
empathy and mutual respect and trust” (p.100).
Positive and Negative Attitudes
Views of the other, whether negative or positive, inadvertently affect the practice of education, especially in terms of peace education. Donitsa-Schmidt et al.
(2004) investigate the effect that negative perceptions have on Israeli students. The
Jewish-Arab conflict portrays “Arabic as a language of no value” (p. 88). The authors contend that the study of a language that holds low prestige does not motivate students to learn to appreciate or study the language of a minority group. What
Donitsa-Schmidt, et al (2004) found in their study of nearly one thousand subjects, is astounding:
Students in the control group [those who did not learn the language] focused on the need to study Arabic because of the surrounding countries and in order to deal with Israel’s enemy. By contrast, the reasons given by student in the experimental group were the need to become familiar with Arabs’ culture, for the sake of peace and also for pragmatic considerations. (p. 223)
As it turns out in Donitsa-Schmidt, et al’s 2004 study, The effects of teaching spoken
Arabic on students’ attitudes and motivation in Israel, those who learned the
69 language of the other were receptive to peace keeping, and its importance, whereas
those who did not still had the perception of Arabs as the enemy.
Abu-Rabia (1998) echoes the influence of negative connotations to the Arabic
language in The learning of Arabic by Israeli Jewish children. The negative attitudes of the Israeli Jewish students were evident on all levels, except when it came to
Arabic learning situations. In other words, if the Arabic learning situation was
enjoyable the attitudes were more positive, revealing the importance of the learning
environment.
Negative/positive perceptions are not just restricted to language acquisition.
Feldash and Lemish (1997) discuss how the perceptions of some of the Israeli
students backfired when in the midst of discussing the Israeli military’s sadistic
actions towards Palestinians. Some students expressed distaste for the exercise even
going so far as to say they were being brainwashed by the project. This hostile
feeling only made them grow closer to and defend their government, justifying their
actions and obliterating the voices of the other. This reaction defeated the purpose of
the entire exercise, but did not negate the efforts of the teacher or the results for the
majority of the class.
Feuerverger’s (1997) study highlights the importance of dialoguing about the
perceptions Jews have about Arabs and vice versa. The youth come face to face with
the enemy, with a deadly silence infiltrating the room, broken only by the sounds of
the leaders. They allow the students to hold their perceptions of one another, and that
they (the leaders) will not interrupt the pedagogical discourse, so long as it is
authentic. This allowed the adolescents to own their truth, their experiences and
70 opinions, and discuss them openly. It was not easy, and oftentimes hostile, but a community was forming, one that gave way to open discourse, ultimately opening the gates towards cultural sensitivity, critical consciousness, and tolerance.
In Horenczyk and Tatar’s (2003) study, the perceptions that counselors had of their objectives were also noteworthy. Here counselors were asked to identify their needs and the needs of their subjects; since both Israeli and Arab counselors were overextended and strained professionally, they offered up suggestions that might be beneficial. The perceptions of the Jewish counselors, however, as to what they needed were very different from the Palestinian counselors’ needs. The Palestinian counselors needed allies and a “louder call for social and cultural change” (p. 389).
However Israeli counselors perceived their needs differently; they had a more
“defensive-reactive stance and directed their efforts towards the strengthening of their pupils’ psychological resiliency” (p. 389). It is possible that collective work with the
Israeli and Arab counselors might help to bridge the divide and aid their pupils to deal with conflict resolution. However, no mention of this suggestion is made in the study.
71 Importance of Good Educators
A good learning environment is imperative in all realms of education, but even more so in models of peace education, because so many different elements are at play simultaneously. The most significant theme that appeared and reappeared relentlessly in the literature is the pivotal role of the educator and the importance of a good learning milieu.
In Abu-Rabia’s (2004) study, the Arab significance of the learning situation was the most important finding. Glazier’s (2003) study also indicated the importance of the school environment, because in time, students began to mimic appropriate and compassionate behavior in the absence of educators. Likewise, Glazier (2004) maintains that as the educators learned how to work with and among differences as
Jewish and Muslim educators, they began to redesign and ultimately reform the way they taught their students. The impact of this learning environment is invaluable.
Donitsa-Schmidt et al (2004) assert in their study that the most important factor in student perception was the educator and that the “findings of this research also highlight the centrality of the quality of the teaching program and teacher qualifications in the educational system and specifically in the language teaching framework” (p. 227).
Educators need support, and when there is so little of it to go around, programs and great ideas are abandoned. The educational realm is designed in such a way that allows for great ideas to thrive only when given relentless persistence and attention. Bekerman (2004) reiterates “Any such invented tradition is too dependent on personal initiative and commitment, which, if not fully supported by the wider
72 cultural system, will fail” (p. 588). It is near impossible to deconstruct viewpoints in
conflict ridden areas, and educators need all the help they can get.
These educators demonstrate wonderful teaching qualities in a time where
hope is scarce. The School for Peace is a space where confused, hurt, and angry
teenagers could come and feel safe. They received guidance from skilled and
passionate educators, who have their moments of despair. This is a place where
educators and students, Muslims, Christians and Jews, Israelis and Arabs can come
together and grieve in one another’s company. The creation of such an institution is a
testament that there is still hope. As Freire (1994) states that “there are people who
can make flowers grow where it had seemed impossible” (p. 176).
Summary of Peace Education Studies
The methodology of the research studies was admirable. As someone who
knows the unrest in the Middle East, I commend the researchers who risked so much
by traveling to study the importance of peace in times of conflict. One of the
limitations I saw in every one of the studies, except Bekerman’s (2004), was the exclusion of a discussion of researcher bias. Bekerman (2004) was the only researcher who overtly reveals personal bias in the introduction, noting to readers his
Jewish background and his attempt to “come to at least be able to sustain a critical perspective on myself and the circumstances of [his] research” (p 577).
The Donitsa Schmidt et al. (2004) study consisted of nearly a thousand
students, and if I were to piggyback on this study, I would limit my population and
add a qualitative dimension simply because the study conducted was on such a grand
scale that the voices of the participants were missing. The benefit of reading both
73 Glazier’s studies was that one (2004) focused on the teachers and their praxes, while
the other (2003) focused on students and their praxis. The development of critical
consciousness was evident, and the voice of the subjects was present. Abu-Rabia’s
(1998) study was also helpful in its determination to learn not just the Arabic
language, but also the motives behind the act of acquisition. However, it was not as thorough as it could have been. The mere presentation of numbers does not in and of
itself indicate the truth of the matter.
Without a doubt, much work needs to be done; but by working towards and
not against education as a practice of freedom, we may indeed have a hopeful future.
The state of the world as we know it is dark. Many are dying in vain, and many
spirits crumble daily. Educators must hold on, the hard work is nowhere near done.
As Fr. Denis Collins (1996) states, “The day we claim we are satisfied with the
schools or the systems we have is the day our maladies become terminal” (p. 9).
Courage is essential. We must not be afraid.
Dominator culture has tried to keep us all afraid, to make us choose safety instead of risk, sameness instead of diversity. Moving through that fear, finding out what connects us, reveling in our differences; this is the process that brings us closer, that gives us a world of shared values, of meaningful community. (hooks, 2003, p. 197)
The controversial nature of these studies has to be addressed. Although as an Arab I
have grappled with my own feelings and biases towards the Israeli-Palestinian
conflict, one sentence in Glazier’s study (2004) resonated with me. When Yaffe, the
Israeli teacher, discusses her acknowledgment that she too benefits from the land
distribution and she states, “This is my country…I haven’t any other place to go” (p.
623). I begin to realize the birth of my own cultural sensitivity, and with this I feel
74 hope that peace is not unattainable. Instead our unity in diversity may ultimately be
the greatest gift we give one another, and as Ahmad and Szpara (2005) contend, one
way to start is vis-à-vis local and global consciousness.
Conclusion
The purpose of this literature review is to provide a concise historical
framework and a solid depiction of the research surrounding current Jordanian-
Palestinian social, economic, and political sectors. Life and education in the refugee
camps are also discussed in great detail so as to investigate how one’s education in the camps can affect their transition into higher education. Because little exists in terms of peace and human rights education in Jordan regarding Jordanians and
Palestinians, I referred to instances of transformative education in Israel/Palestine as models. However, it is important to restate that the unity efforts in peace education mentioned above in Israel did not take place in the Occupied Territories, making a significant difference.
As we can see, the data regarding Jordanian-Palestinian cohabitation is dated.
Moreover, it does not take into account the experiences and perceptions of one
another—studies discuss notions of Palestinians and their identity without taking into
account the perceptions of the host and dominant culture. Quantitative analyses of life in the camps are also studied, but none to my knowledge incorporate a comparative analysis of Jordanians as well as Palestinians (Khawaja & Tiltnes, 2002;
Kawaja, 2003).
It would be valuable to add to the research already in existence, given the
ever- changing political milieu in Jordan. It is just as valuable to extract those
75 perceptions from Palestinian refugee and Jordanian graduates. My sincere hope is that this study will be an invaluable contribution to the body of literature on Jordanian
Palestinian coexistence, peace and human rights education, as well as anti apartheid
rights discourse.
76 CHAPTER III
METHODOLOGY
Critical Ethnography Methods
This qualitative study employed critical ethnographic methods in order to gain
insights into the perspectives of Palestinian refugee and Jordanian graduates from public universities in Jordan. The “critical” component to this research is defined by
Carspecken (1996) as:
[Concerned with] social inequalities, and we direct out work toward positive social change. We also share a concern with social theory and some of the basic issues it has struggled with since the nineteenth century. These include the nature of social structure, power, culture, and human agency (p. 3).
One of the main objectives in a critical ethnographic approach is to maintain and
honor the authenticity of what the researcher sets out to observe. Empowerment is
also at the core of critical ethnography (Anderson, 1989), coinciding with Freire’s
(2003) notion of conscientization or reawakening of the human spirit. In this cross-
cultural research, the role of the researcher is vital; it was my responsibility to honor
the people I intended to study.
As described earlier, the study explored the Palestinian Diaspora to Jordan and
its implications for both Jordanians and Palestinian refugees. Data collection consisted of intensive observations of Palestinians in various refugee camps, and
Palestinian refugee and Jordanian university graduates. Field notes, interviews with
Palestinian refugees and Jordanian graduates, as well as members of the greater community, were all central to the study. The study relied heavily on critical ethnographic methods because both the methods and this study challenge traditional
77 notions of research while simultaneously positioning the researcher and participants, with an undercurrent of activist research.
Kincheloe and McLaren (2000) argue that critical researchers confront research in an attempt to critically examine how realities are shaped with the intention of transformation. Patti Lather (1991; 1993) refers to the transformational aspect of critical research as “catalytic validity,” or research that “moves those it studies to understand the world and the way it is shaped in order for them to transform it”
(Kinchelow & McLaran, 2000, p. 297). Research, such as my own which encompasses catalytic validity, aims not only to define and articulate the realities of a certain population, but does so with the intention to have an impact. Fine, Weis,
Weseen, and Wong (2000) aver the responsibility and inherent difficulties of such research:
Some think we make “much ado about nothing.” Others are relieved that we are “saying aloud” this next generation of troubles. Many wish we could continue to hide under the somewhat transparent robe of qualitative research. And yet we are compelled to try to move a public conversation about researchers and responsibilities toward a sense of research for social justice. (p. 108)
While traditional research seeks to describe the phenomena or study in question, critical ethnography seeks to question power and create agency for the benefit of the people being described (Kincheloe & McLaren, 2000; Lather 1991; Lather, 1993).
This qualitative study on Jordanian-Palestinian refugee coexistence adheres to critical ethnographic methods, with the intention of seeking to understand how power manifests itself, as well as notions of activism which situate the researcher as advocate for a marginalized population. In short, critical ethnography transcends the objectification of the researched and the ethnocentric gaze by questioning how power
78 manifests itself. Problematizing the relationship between the researcher and the
participant is central to critical ethnography, as it decolonizes the study by allowing
self-thought and self-determination. As Manganaro (1990) asserts:
[N]o anthropology is apolitical, removed from ideology, and hence from the capacity to be affected by or, as crucially, to effect social formations. The question ought not to be if an anthropological text is political, but rather, what kind of sociopolitical affiliations are tied to particular anthropological texts” (p. 35).
Manganaro’s (1990) declaration deconstructs the notion of research as a political
undertaking free from bias and politically motivated ideology, the same way Freire
(1994) speaks to education as political: the two are not independent.
As Kincheloe and McLaren (2000) state, “critical research traditions have
arrived at the point where they recognize that claims to truth are always discursively
situated and implicated in relations of power” (p. 299). In other words, just because
absolute truth does not exist, it is not necessarily equated with power. Furthermore,
Kincheloe and McLaren (2000) deduce “truth is internally related to meaning in a pragmatic way through normative referenced claims, intersubjective referenced claims, and the way we deictically ground or anchor meaning in our daily lives”
(p.299).
In positioning the researcher in the study, Carspecken (1993; 1999) argues researchers must recognize their own existence and belief system, where they are ideologically grounded and why it this is so, and how to avoid claims which obstruct what is observed. Arguably one of Carspecken’s (1996) more essential theses in positioning my research is the claim that what we see and who we are is predisposed and grounded in what we value. This notion is furthered by Kincheloe and McLaren
79 (2000) who purport that “rather than rely on metaphors found in mainstream
ethnographic accounts, critical ethnography, in contrast, should emphasize
communicative experiences and structures” (p. 300). Their assertion positions the
study in the sociopolitical context which other methods of research tend to ignore.
Kincheloe and McLaren (2000) address notions of researcher objectivity they
term the “reflexive approach” to critical ethnography in discussing recent innovations
in critical ethnography. The “reflexive approach” is a method which states the
researcher ought not to separate oneself from the participants, but rather, become “a unified subject of knowledge that can make hermeneutic efforts to establish identification between the observer and the observed (as in modernist interpretive traditions)” (p. 301). This approach to critical ethnography aims to “free the object of analysis from the tyranny of fixed, unassailable categories and to rethink subjectivity itself as a permanently unclosed, always partial, narrative engagement with text and context” (p. 301).
As addressed above, notions of power and truth are central to critical
ethnography, but so too are notions of culture (Kinchelow and McLaren, 2000; San
Juan, 1996; Stewart, 1996). Culture as described in critical ethnography is not static,
but rather fluid and multifaceted. Culture is a social process and practice immersed in
material social relations such as the economy, politics, communication, and social
reproduction (San Juan, 1996). The positioning of culture as material social layers is
mandatory to the progressive and emancipatory approaches.
Building on ethnographic notions of culture, this study is also grounded in
Willis’ (1977) understanding of culture. Willis (1977) contends:
80 I view the cultural, not simply as a set of transferred internal structures (as in the usual notions of socialisation) nor as the passive result of the action of dominant ideology downwards (as in certain kinds of marxism), but at least in part a the product of collective human praxis. (p. 4)
In the understanding of culture as neither passive, nor a top-down construction, this study is situated in the belief of the collective human experience of nationality, community, as well as social process, as embedded in material social relations.
This critical educational research approach is fundamentally localized, but it also transcends the educational institution to explore the relations between the local community (whether Palestinian, Jordanian, or both), the school, and the sociopolitical environment. The objective of critical ethnography is empowerment.
Gordon, Holland, and Lahelma (2001) continue, stating that “the aim [of critical ethnography] is to theorize social structural constraints and human agency, as well as the interrelationship between structure and agency in order to consider paths towards empowerment of the researched” (p. 193).
The origin of ethnography is found in both sociology and cultural anthropology (Gordon, Holland, and Lahelma, 2001; Brunt, 2001; Spindler and
Spindler, 1982). In no way does this research intend to make generalizations about
Jordanians or Palestinian refugees. Moreover, researchers oftentimes abuse their power as ethnographers by perpetuating stereotypes, thus enabling misnomers in research to continue. While ethnography seeks to simply document participant voices, perspectives, and experiences, critical ethnography addresses the inequities which are the foundation for and origins of the participant experiences. The intent here is to stay as far away from stereotyping and creating broad universal “truths.”
81 This is the exploration of individuals sought out by the researcher to seek their truths,
their realities, and their perceptions regarding coexistence in Jordan.
Research Design
McMillan (2000) states that observations, interviews, and gathering documents are “the primary modes of data collection for ethnographic studies” (p.
255). Cross-referencing observations (through passive as well as thick description), field notes, interviews, personal notes, and other relevant data was integral to discover themes that are threaded throughout the study. The researcher and the researched engaged, blurred the ‘one-up, one-down’ role of traditional research, as they aimed to critically explore realities in Jordan.
Field Notes
Both passive and thick descriptions were used when taking field notes.
Passive observation and note-taking are best during the beginning of observations to
minimize the researcher’s presence (Carspecken, 1996). The natural progression of
the study led me to thick description when both researcher and participants became
more comfortable.
The purpose of thick description is to ensure accuracy. Thick description pays careful attention and provides detailed notes such as: description of physical setting, reconstruction of dialogue, portraits of the participants, accounts of events, depiction
of activities, and the observer’s behavior (Bogdan & Biklen, 1998). At times notes were “quite thick,” meaning not every detail was necessary, and when necessary I returned to my tape recorder to “thicken” them with details (Carspecken, 1996).
82 Another reason notes were quite thick had to do with the surrounding
environment. Oftentimes it was inappropriate to walk around with a notepad and
paper because it could raise too much skepticism. I noticed that I improvised, using
my own techniques and strategies to best provide pure observations. I began to write
target words that would elicit a response from me when I went home; target words
such as mukhabarat, unemployment, or even physical descriptions, like souk runs in
the middle of rc (refugee camp). These target words then became the framework or
outline of my field notes. Throughout observations it was important to make the
strange familiar, and the familiar strange (Spindler and Spindler, 1982).
Interviews
Both structured and unstructured interviews were employed. Research
questions were used to guide interview questions. Therefore, both were
complimentary to one another and information both directly and indirectly pertinent
to the study was elicited. Interview questions were generated from the observations,
but tentative questions were also compiled that stemmed from the research questions to guide the interview.
Interviews lasted approximately an hour to an hour and a half, with follow-up
interviews that lasted an average of half an hour to an hour. Interview questions were
cross checked by both the participants of the study, as well as the dissertation chair,
Dr. Katz, and committee members Dr. Koirala-Azad and Dr. Zunes. Interview
questions were also cross checked with non participants in the study to ensure
applicability and whether or not questions were relatable enough to comprehend.
83 This was a valuable tactic because many questions were altered or changed, and I was able to format questions in such a way that did not offend the participants.
One such example is that one of the questions asked participants to respond to
Jordan’s role in the Israeli-Palestinian conflict. Upon reviewing the questions with someone, she mentioned that calling it the “Israeli-Palestinian conflict” was controversial, and that many refer to it as solely the “Palestinian conflict.” To see a framework of interview questions, please refer to appendixes B and C.
Simultaneously, however, it was very important to ensure participants felt at ease; if the interview took another turn and digressed, I allowed it to happen. Legard,
Keegan, and Ward (2003) agree that the importance of interviews is “the power of language to illuminate meaning” (p. 138). Bogdan and Biklen (1998) state that:
Qualitative interviews vary in the degree to which they are structured…even when an interview guide is employed, qualitative interviews offer the interviewer considerable latitude to pursue a range of and offer the subject a chance to shape the content of an interview. (p. 94)
This methodology helped gain a greater perspective on not just the research questions, but also into the participants’ worldview. The semi-structured technique was invaluable because it opened up the research to include important facts which might not have been recognized in an overly structured approach.
84 Data Collection
Dialogues were supposed to take place after observations in order to generate
questions shaped around what was observed. This was only partially the case. All of
the questions were framed around the first two weeks’ observations of Jordan. In
other words, the questions did not directly come from observations made in the refugee camps. The reason for this was that two of my interviews (then four) were conducted on my first day with refugees. While interview questions did not emanate from a refugee camp environment per se, they were implicitly woven into my interview questions as the study progressed. However, all of the questions were born
out of what was observed in Jordan the first two weeks there. Carspecken (1996)
states that the purpose of this stage in the research is “to democratize the research process” (p. 155). Participants were able to share their ideas regarding their reality in their own words. The dialogic data is the opportunity for the researcher to hear what people living in and within the intended environment have to say about the study.
The timeline spanned from July 10 until August 22, 2006. Originally the plan
was that I would continue my research again, from December 2006 to January 2007
in Jordan. When the Lebanese-Israeli war broke days after my arrival, plans for my
research quickly changed. The immediate modification and objective were to
complete everything I set out to do in the two-phase study, during my almost two month stay. This also changed the research design, which shifted from a critical
ethnography to a qualitative study utilizing critical ethnographic methods, or a small-
scale critical ethnography. I could not claim to develop a critical ethnographic study
based on solely two months of data collection.
85 As a result of the modification, I immersed myself in the research process and made no time for much-anticipated leisure with family. It is no exaggeration to say I began to work morning, noon and night, and oftentimes way after midnight completing transcriptions, conducting interviews and typing up journal entries. This comprehensive immersion in my study was both a simultaneous blessing and curse. I planned on collecting data four to five days a week for several hours at a time. What
I came to realize very quickly, however, was the instinctual collection of data, whether from the driver or my cousins during random conversation, and so forth: I was essentially ceaselessly collecting data.
About a month earlier, I had sent a letter to both the University of Jordan and
Hashemite University requesting permission to access University of Jordan students and Hashemite University students. A letter from Dr. Katz was attached with my request, along with tentative interview questions. Upon receiving my letter of intent, both universities denied my request, and therefore with the help of my committee chair, Dr. Katz, the dissertation shifted to focus on university graduates. Initial devastation over not being able to interview university students quickly turned to relief. In essence this liberated my entire study. Tentative interview questions and observations no longer had to work under the auspices of the university. This was significant because upon arrival, I quickly became aware of the political nature of my study, and the role of the university. Moreover, fear in Jordan is pervasive and, to a certain extent, is engulfing people, particularly the underprivileged, economically disadvantaged people of Jordan (see Chapter Five).
86 While I had hoped participants would feel at ease discussing Jordanian-
Palestinian refugee coexistence, it was too naïve of me to expect such a thing. The
very nature of the study is seeped in fear. Students would then have to worry about
societal as well as academic consequences of speaking out. The relief of knowing
that they would not have to face persecution with the university comforted me as well
as participants, immensely.
Research Setting
The research took place mainly in virtually homogenous Palestinian refugee
camps in Jordan. Interviews were conducted at local hangouts, participants’ homes,
or any other mutually agreed upon location. There are thirteen refugee camps in
Jordan, ten of which are recognized as “official camps” by the UNRWA and three of
which are considered “unofficial”(DPA 2006; UNRWA, 2003). The Department of
Palestinian Affairs granted me full, unrestricted access into any refugee camp in
Jordan. This is very rare, considering they typically assign only one refugee camp to
a scholar and researcher. The permits were signed along with a letter in Arabic that
was translated and notarized by an official translator. Below is a chart of refugee
camp profiles, the dates of establishment and estimated populations according to both
DPA and UNRWA.
87 Camp’s Name Establishment Date Estimated Estimated Population (DPA) Population date N/A (UNRWA) as of 2005**
Al-Wihdat (Amman 1955 44,395 50,703 New Camp)*
Jabal El-Hussein* 1952 27,891 30,241
Prince Hassan 1967 9,000 --- (Hinikeen)
Talibieh* 1968 8,754 9,000
Madaba 1956 5,500 ---
Hiteen (Marka)* 1968 45,550 48.027
Zarqa* 1949 16,491 18,043
Sukhneh 1969 4,750 ---
Baqa’a* 1968 83,127 89,778
Jerash (Gaza) * 1968 26,000 23,185
Souf 1967 15,000 20,141
Azmi Al-Mufti 1968 18,655 26,965 camp (Al-Husun)*
Irbid 1950 21,753 24,351
* recognized by both UNRWA and the DPA (DPA 2006; UNRWA; 2003) ** recognized and unrecognized refugees
Data above was compiled by cross referencing both UNRWA (2003) and DPA (2006) information. It is unknown why there is a discrepancy in the numbers of Palestinian representation in the camp. The numbers provided by DPA (2006) do not mention what year the numbers were collected. The main purpose of the above table is to
88 provide a visual representation of Palestinian refugees throughout Jordan and the
distribution among the camps. Jordan is “home” to more Palestinian refugees than
any other country in the world:
Country Number of Registered Refugees
Syria 317,346
Lebanon 394,523
West Bank 687,542
Gaza Strip 993,818
Jordan 1,780,701
(UNRWA, 2003)
It is important to note numbers may have shifted since 2003, particularly in the wake
of increased tensions in Lebanon.
Four refugee camps were observed: Madaba, Baqa’a, Hiteen, and Hussein
camps. In this study, real names of the refugee camps are used for several reasons.
First, problematizing and contextualizing the setting are integral to understanding
why certain refugee camps are vastly different from others. For instance, whether or not camps are recognized by the United Nations can have an impact on suggestions for further research and allocation of funding. Second, each camp has its own modus operandi, and providing pseudonyms would oversimplify and overlook distinct features of the camps. Third, the likelihood of participant identification is improbable
(not impossible) because of their pseudonyms, thereby minimizing potential harm and ramifications. Fourth, though a handful of people assisted in my visits to the camps,
89 very few are aware of the nature of my study, and even fewer know interviews were
conducted.
Most of the time was spent in Madaba and Baqa’a. Two research participants
lived in Madaba (originally four) and one lived in Baqa’a camp. Each camp had its
own culture (as defined in critical ethnography to include: culture as a social process
with a foundation in material social relations such as; economics, politics, communication, and the domain of social reproduction) and its own functioning society (San Juan, 1996).
Research Participants
Participants were both Palestinian refugees and Jordanians who graduated
from a public university in Jordan. Originally five Palestinian refugee graduates and
five Jordanian graduates were interviewed. However a string of events outside the
control or the scope of the study and indicative of the social pressures on refugees
resulted in two Palestinian refugees opting out of further participation resulting in three Palestinian refugee graduates, and three Jordanian graduates. These factors are discussed in greater detail in chapter Four. In total, ten initial interviews and nine
follow up interviews were conducted. Nineteen interviews and two participant withdrawals became very overwhelming. To include diverse experiences, the hope was that participants would be male and female, as well as Muslim and Christian.
The study ended up with two female Palestinian refugees and one male, all of whom were Muslim. The Jordanian participants were all male and all Christian.
Participants were interviewed twice, and they all signed consent forms. All consent
90 forms were signed and pseudonyms were assigned or self-selected. Tapes of the interviews along with all signed letters of consent are in an undisclosed location.
Participant Profiles: Palestinian Refugees
Name Age Birthplace University Major Graduation Occupation
Nour 23 Madaba Mu’ta English 2005 Unemployed University Literature
Khaled 23 Madaba Zeituneh Computer 2005 Computer University Programming Instructor
JR 35 Baqa’a Al Mathematics 2005 Teacher Hussein Bin Talal University
Participant Profiles: Jordanians
Name Age Birthplace University Major Graduation Occupation
Osama 22 Amman Hashemite Mechanical June 2006 Training University Engineering Engineer Shadi 23 Karak Jordan Mechanical June 2006 Training University Engineering Engineer of Science & Technology [JUST] Ibrahim 32 Amman Jordan Finance & 1998 Finance University Banking Administration
While the initial hope was that participants would be self-selected to ensure varied perceptions, this was not entirely the case. Many times, participants were selected by either refugee camp leaders or family members who knew graduates. However, the varied experiences and perceptions remained in tact because all had distinctive
91 qualities and observations and their own story to tell. The reasons for choosing to
focus specifically on university graduates were because they are the immediate future and are vital in determining the direction of Jordan with the mindset necessary to break away from old perceptions and to enter a new paradigm of hope and resolution.
I anticipated that having contacts and allies in the community would help tremendously, and it did. I could have never conducted this study without the help of
my family in Jordan, my mother, and many allies and volunteers who helped guide
and ensure the proper execution of this dissertation. In many cases, members of the
culture (as defined by critical ethnography) navigated me through the process. The
participants were as actively engaged in the research as I was, and they had a vested
interest and ownership in its outcomes. The process of the study enabled us to
collectively engage in an exchange of ideas revolving around notions of power and
hegemony, and why the structures in Jordan shape and sometimes perpetuate the
dominant-subordinate paradigm.
Data Collection
The study was conducted in Jordan during the months of July and August
2006. This gave me the time I needed to familiarize myself with the community and
recruit participants that were willing to talk about their experiences regarding
Jordanian-Palestinian refugee coexistence. The journey was dedicated to becoming
familiar with the refugee camp environment and culture, while simultaneously
becoming familiar with people in the community.
An ally and member of the community was always necessary in assisting in
recruiting, and if necessary, translation. While I speak Colloquial Jordanian Arabic, I
92 was unable to understand the majority of my initial hour-long interviews with the
Palestinian university graduates. It was mentioned during my proposal defense that the Jordanian-Palestinian dialects should not be a problem, but for me it was. My low variety Arabic diglossia forced me to rely on pseudo-research assistants to aid in immediate translation during the interviews. My makeshift assistants (whether my cousins, my mother or my aunt) were pivotal during the Palestinian refugee interview portion. In time, I was able to adapt more to the Arabic, which was Palestinian dialect and oftentimes formal, and I was able to somewhat familiarize myself. When my research assistants could not attend one interview, I merely told the participant to speak to me the way they would to a ten year old. Between his English and my
Arabic, we were able to make do. While many of the Palestinian refugee graduates have taken courses in English, the level was nowhere near enough to capture their thoughts and relay their messages. As a result almost all of the Palestinian refugee interviews wound up in Arabic.
As for the Jordanian university graduates, most of the interviews were conducted in English, with a little Arabic present in every interview. However, the
Arabic of the Jordanians was much easier for me to understand and respond to. I ended up utilizing my Arabic much more than I had anticipated, which was very interesting for many reasons. First, my ignorant assumption that I would be able to conduct my interviews in English highlighted the ethnocentric arrogance that I have unknowingly internalized; the assumption that anyone who understood or learned
English could or would speak it, especially regarding such deep and complicated subject matters. Secondly, some Palestinian refugees could speak to me in English,
93 but chose not to, which I think was a combination of comfort (being able to convey
their thoughts adequately) and a political statement.
Thirdly, I think having to speak in Arabic was a very big lesson on the
importance of research. The compromise of having to rely on assistants and
translators and having to rely on my seemingly limited Arabic forced us to engage in
an unanticipated dance; the receiving and delivering of messages made both the
participants and me check and double check the authenticity of what we were
communicating. This exchange brought us even closer together, creating a bond
between someone who sought the participants’ stories, and the participant who seeks
to be heard.
Data collection included mainly fieldwork and field observations as well as
interviews. Throughout the course of the study, the objective was to study and
explore the perceptions and experiences of Jordanian and Palestinian refugee
coexistence. Themes were generated and interview questions emanated from the
observations of societal observations in Jordan.
The first two weeks of my stay in Jordan were observations of the culture at
large. I observed and explored the shopping centers, driving regulations,
conversations in passing, etc. The remainder of the trip was more overt observation
in the refugee camp. Unless I was interviewing Jordanian participants, I was in the refugee camp. Time spent in the refugee camp spanned anywhere between two-seven
hours a day. Field notes were typed up, and all interviews were translated and
transcribed prior to my return in the event that my tapes were confiscated. A backup
copy of all tapes were made and left in Jordan in a safe, locked place in the event that
94 anything happened to me or the tapes that I had on me during my flight back to
California.
Data Analysis Procedures
Data analysis began immediately after data collection. Whenever any observation was completed, field notes were typed and studied. Interviews were immediately translated and transcribed. Interview transcriptions took as long as fifteen hours and no fewer than five hours to transcribe. Further analysis began from the focal point—the research questions. The research questions about coexistence from the perspectives of Palestinians and Jordanians are the framework, the roadmap for this study, but as anticipated, more questions arose when abroad.
Observations, field notes, interviews, personal notes, and other relevant data were all cross referenced to come up with themes that threaded throughout my research. Reflections and a personal journal were also kept. I was constantly writing down possible ideas, themes, and questions and put them away for a day or two before revisiting them to see if any new ideas generated. Data was reviewed with my cousins and family members in Jordan because I felt it would be more authentic to cross reference my observations with theirs; they were able see things that I was not able to. All of these exercises individually and collectively have allowed me to identify themes, strengths and weaknesses, new observations and thoughts, and insight. Upon returning from Jordan, data was coded by thematic relevance. Quotes were grouped together based on whether or not they adequately addressed the overriding themes which were revealed from the study.
95 Protection of Human Subjects
Although I anticipated that some questions might make participants feel
uncomfortable, I underestimated just how uncomfortable some of the questions were.
However, participants were free to decline to answer any questions they did not wish
to answer or to stop participation at any time. I also projected there were no known
risks and/or discomforts associated with this study, which was also inaccurate. To
truly understand why there was discomfort and uneasiness during almost every
interview and follow-up interview, one has to understand the current reality in Jordan.
All-encompassing and pervasive fear exists, and to say that fear is omnipresent is not
an exaggeration (This argument is further illustrated in Chapter Four). I want to be
careful here, because I can imagine that some Jordanians reading this might think I
am being dramatic. I do not believe this to be the case, but it is also fair to say the
fears for refugees are greater, more heightened, than the fears for Jordanians or
wealthy Palestinians. I was told on more than one occasion that one out of every four
people is mukhabarat (secret police), and oftentimes the fear was that I was one of them. While there was no direct benefit to participants, the anticipated benefit of this study was that participants might come away with a greater understanding of their attitudes and perceptions of coexistence in Jordan. I believe that this was the case because many, if not all, participants alluded to this during their follow up interview.
Names and data collected are kept as confidential as possible. Only the researcher, community allies, and the person who led me to the participants knew the identity of those who agreed to be interviewed. Should data gathered during the study be used for this dissertation or any published material, in order to maintain
96 confidentiality, pseudonyms were given to all participants. Study records were kept as confidential as possible. Study information was kept in a private, undisclosed location. Only the dissertation chair and I had access to the files. Tape recordings will be expunged upon completion of the dissertation defense.
97 CHAPTER IV Methodological Challenges
Introduction The subject matter of this research is grounded in undoubtedly the most
conflict ridden part of the world. Old, current, and emerging religious, economic,
cultural, and social fissures create an environment which poses various challenges
this chapter will address. Further, the omnipresence of mukhabarat (secret police)
and their focus on possible dissenting discourse complicated an already sensitive
research venture. Consequently, at the request of my dissertation committee I
included this “Methodological Challenges” chapter to chronicle and catalogue the
complexities of the environment I lived, researched, and worked in.
Background of the Researcher
It is now acknowledged that critical ethnographers have a responsibility have a responsibility to talk about our identities, why we interrogate what we do, what we choose not to report, how we frame our data, on whom we shed our scholarly gaze, who is protected and not protected as we do our work. What is our participatory responsibility to research with and for a more progressive community life? (Fine, et al., 2000, p. 218)
I should preface by stating my bias. My bias lies with the Palestinian people
who have been overrun by Israel’s forces, humiliated by Israel’s apartheid, and
marginalized by Israel’s occupation of Palestine. This inevitably invokes sentiment
towards Palestinians, or the “other”, living in Jordan as it seeks to piece together a meaningful existence in their host country. However, the Palestinian people’s
condition in Jordan is primarily a manifestation of Israel’s ongoing occupation of
Palestine.
98 Freire’s (1994) notion that education is not neutral and political from birth helps me rationalize my biases. This notion is furthered by methods of critical ethnography that do not require neutrality. In my praxis, I have shed many tears, engaged in many arguments, been called an Anti-Semite by peers and colleagues, and
I have internalized the oppression by sometimes believing the propaganda that has been fed to me. I have learned through much reflection to unlearn the hatred and fear, and have begun to build bridges and form allies. Though it has not been easy, I have come a long way. As a transnational scholar and global activist, I seek to further discover and expose the various injustices that I observe, in addition to injustices and inequities that I have yet to see.
As a bi-cultural woman, both Armenian and Jordanian who holds dual citizenship in Jordan and the United States, I have always been aware of my identity—both the benefits and consequences. When we left the Middle East, my family resettled in South San Francisco. Growing up, I attended an Armenian bilingual and bicultural school in San Francisco.
At an early age, I learned what it meant to be bicultural and sometimes what I learned was that being half one thing, and half another, was something to be ashamed of. This mentality never infiltrated the family realm, as my parents made a very conscious effort to educate both my sister and me about what it meant to be both
Armenian and Jordanian; one was never sacrificed for the other. Summers were spent in Jordan, surrounded by Arabic and Middle Eastern culture. This was not easy; I can recall with great guilt and shame the times that I internalized my oppression; I was too insecure and too weak in my convictions.
99 In college, and the events following the terrorist attacks on September 11,
2001, I became hyper-aware of my Arab-ness. My involvement in protests and going to trials to support friends who had been unjustly arrested were a part of my praxis.
We wore green armbands, which only created more tension on my university campus.
I recall going to meetings that the “Students for Justice in Palestine” club put together only to see lines of cop cars waiting. They waited for nothing, because they were peaceful meetings. The senseless fear that quickly spread was paralyzing.
Many nights, I recall being outside of clubs hearing drunken men sing the national anthem (sometimes skipping verses and dropping words) and chanting
“USA! USA!” During a study break days after the attack, I witnessed a Muslim woman walking passed a group of white men. They proceeded to scream at her, telling her to “go back home” and that this was “all her fault.” Notions of sexism were rampant as well, especially for women who chose to wear the veil.
I would be lying if I said that I did not hear many people I knew well saying clearly racist comments quickly followed by statements such as, “but I’m not racist” only to clear their own conscience. Gross generalizations became the norm. Political correctness was no longer necessary; now it became acceptable to talk about Arabs and fundamentalist terrorists without differentiating between the two. United States citizenship transcended global citizenship.
I began to realize that war had become nothing short of a spectator sport, a legalized gang—a quarrel among leaders wherein innocent lives must fight and die.
The United States was taking a step backwards as a nation with men, women and children suffering for the mistakes of the men we placed in power. The
100 desensitization of war, and the dehumanization of those we called enemies, was nothing short of sin. The war in Iraq has not solved any of our problems, it has merely displaced them.
In my own investigations and studies, I began to see the core of terrorism as deeply connected to frustration with mishandling and exploitation of the Israeli-
Palestinian conflict. I have dedicated my years at USF to critically learning, thinking and questioning taken-for-granted truths. I questioned the role of the United States after September 11, 2001. I attended peace dialogues as a means of coming to terms with my anger and sadness and healing my wounded spirit.
When my family came from Jordan to visit us in the United States in 2005, they embedded in me a desire to explore issues they raised about coexistence in
Jordan. At the time, I had no idea this would become the huge undertaking that is my doctoral dissertation. Many family friends have asked that I abandon this study, which only made me thirst for more information. With the help and guidance of my mentors at USF in the International and Multicultural Education department, and the scholarly exchange of ideas, this study came alive. I began to combine my passions for Jordan, Palestinian refugees, global human rights education, activism and revolution.
101 A Journey Back Home
Traveling to Jordan was the culmination of years of work and soul searching.
Upon landing from a twenty four hour voyage to Queen Alia International Airport
and looking for familiar faces, I was reminded of childhood journeys to Jordan. I
remember thinking that landing would never happen. Like a child approaching her
birthday, I count down the hours until I see the eyes of my family looking
everywhere, trying to recognize me, the same way I search for them. Finally when
our eyes meet, what appears an hour-long scavenger hunt becomes an exhilarating, emotional encounter.
Fears of homesickness leave my body almost immediately as I begin to realize that I have been homesick for Jordan for some time now; but I was unable to identify that within myself. Here I find what I never knew I was searching for. (Field notes, July 12, 2006)
We make our way to the car and I almost feel intoxicated; exhausted, disheveled, yet giddy. Driving home from the airport, both sides of the highway used
to be barren land where people would stop and picnic, or Bedouins would live; I recall even seeing camels as a child running alongside the highway. This time, however, the highway is surrounded by a huge gas station, Hardee’s, McDonald’s,
Burger King, and a huge water-park dubbed “Amman Waves”! The almost twenty minute car ride to our flat consists of trying to familiarize myself to an old friend who has had a complete facial reconstructive surgery due to the recent economic boom in
Jordan. My neighborhood is surrounded by new buildings, construction sites, and streets.
102 Development here is rapid. Everyday a new place is being built and housing is on the rise at remarkable, unparallel rates. Villas abound; almost invisible the last time I was here. Expansion is unbelievable. One sight outside of my flat captured me: a man building a house with his son, teaching him the trade. The son looks at his father and emulates his moves; his dad puts a nail in and hammers, so too does the son. This apprenticeship, I gather is not uncommon. (Field notes, July 12, 2006)
Prior to my arrival I was told that I would not recognize Amman, my birthplace and
Jordan’s capital city. I wondered whether economic development was helping or hindering everyone in Jordan. My research question regarding sociopolitical climate and the effects it has on Jordanian-Palestinian refugee coexistence surface immediately. I wondered: did the economic “boom” help everyone, both rich and poor? I could not help but answer my own question, all the while hating the answer: the gentrification of Amman.
As I drive from one location to the next I notice that Jordanian traffic as I knew it was different. It was still hectic and chaotic, but something was different: people were driving in their lanes, making full stops at red lights and not making illegal turns—this used to be a norm in Jordan. I ask the driver what is going on and he tells me to look up: cameras akin to the ones we have in the States are all over the place, taking pictures of illegal driving. This was a shock to me because in no way did it seem to belong in Jordan or anywhere else in the Middle East for that matter. Driving chaotically was a very distinct Arab trait—one that many of us used as a right of passage. In other words, driving in Amman looks more like driving in Los Angeles: chaotic, sometimes police don’t do anything and yet somewhat monitored. I was shocked. What shocked me even more was the sheer presence of police. They were on every single traffic light on motorcycles. Now, it is important to realize that in Amman, police were more like figures, and their jobs included very little. I wonder how many men entered law enforcement because there is a huge increase in volume. The police used to be very notorious for being lackadaisical, and yet now even if people still could care less about them (in other words, they do not instill any fear) they are at least aware of their presence. The driver tells me that they all drive American cars and use American guns. Ah makes so much more sense now! (Field notes, July, 13, 2006)
103
Jordan’s overt attempts at Westernization are omnipresent, and one does not need to look far to find the United States in the Middle East. It is a very awkward and uncomfortable concept: the Americanization of Jordan.
I read an article in Jordanian magazine JO called Empowering the people: Democracy and the art of the possible (2006). Dr. Sabri Rbeihat, head of the Ministry of Political Development, discussed the role of the people in Jordanian politics and the importance of political participation (Observer Comment [OC]: I wonder, however, in this Americanization of Jordan, people are so busy with having access to American products that political participation seems a bit uninteresting. I have only noticed that middle-aged men and women discuss politics at home all the time, but are more consumed with how pleasurable it is that they now have soy milk to drink and Starbucks: in other words, leave the decision-making to the decision-makers. I am assuming that this is more common among the wealthy). I would also call what is happening here a Jordanian Renaissance. Everything is coming to fruition at once. Access to the West is more within reach than ever before and if someone has the money to spend, the West and the East live together in perfect harmony. (Field notes, July, 13, 2006).
My family falls in this category—the one wherein access is not an issue of concern, but rather a right; I would hesitantly go even further to suggest it is a taken-for- granted right; one that comes with a sense of entitlement.
Political talk is in every conversation among adults—at every meal and every gathering. This is a land of contradictions in so many ways…[T]here is little civic participation among the wealthy and an unhealthy intensity of participation in pockets of poverty; criticism of the West but a desire to emulate. Even policy wise there is criticism and a simultaneous desire to appease. (Field notes, July 14, 2006)
And so, my position as the researcher is redefined as a Jordanian-Armenian woman who comes from the United States and her family in Jordan falls within the top one percent of wealth; complicated to say the least.
104 I tell my cousin that I want to start looking for a gold necklace with my name written in Arabic. She thought it was so tacky, but it is something I have always wanted. “People look forward, Marianne not backward” as if to say that anything Arabic is ‘backward’. [OC: I think that there is an overall Arab internalized oppression…will find out.] (Field notes, July, 13, 2006)
The observation above was too simplistic at the time, but not completely off the mark.
As days turned to weeks, I noticed the importance class played in the internalization, and how certain Arabs viewed themselves. As the study unfolded, I realized how
Arab-ness fit on the continuum; on the one side nationalism and on the other, westernization at the expense of ethnic identity. I realized for the first time that someone could assimilate to the United States, even when they do not live within
United States borders; frightening.
Methodological and Ethical Challenges
How is the “native” ethnographer in the field of education positioned vis-à-vis her own community, the majority culture, the research setting, and the academy? (Villenas, 1996, p. 712)
My role as a researcher was not easy. The main issue that arose, even in the beginning stages, was my bias. My predisposition is that the Palestinian situation is the result of the United States’ and Israeli occupation and oppression, and that without Jordan’s aid Palestinians would be in a situation far more calamitous.
Ultimately, the tensions between Jordanians and Palestinians, I believe, deviate from the real issue: systematic neo-apartheid of Palestinians in their own country.
I made a conscious effort to be aware of my bias during observations, interviews, even noting when my emotions were being triggered. By presenting data that included both sides of the perceptions regarding Jordanian-Palestinian coexistence, I was letting go of some of that bias. I wanted my research to be as
105 accurate, untainted, ethical, and authentic as possible, but I realize that this subject
resonates with me at my core and that at times I lost myself in the content of what I
witnessed, rather than remaining a distant observer. While qualitative research does
not require the elimination of bias, I wanted to state mine from the beginning, so I
could move beyond it and honor the voice of participants. Even after returning, I
realize it is still a work in progress.
Notions of my own identity as the researcher are very important. Although I
was born in Jordan, and hold a Jordanian passport, my connection and citizenship to the United States (given the current Anti-American sentiment) garnered a level of distrust from participants. I was viewed by some as a traitor and no longer a true
Jordanian. I addressed these issues by ensuring and reiterating participant anonymity while expressing my ultimate goal of shedding light on the importance of peaceful coexistence, however sometimes it was to no avail. Moreover, my identity as a
Jordanian-Armenian woman and scholar created an unanticipated challenge: ethnocentrism. As discussed in Chapter four, reviewing my analyses with colleagues enabled me to see that I myself had to confront my own notions of ethnocentrism, despite my transnational identity.
One obstacle that I thought I would face was my gender and religion. This was not as big of an issue as I thought. As a female and Christian in a predominantly
Muslim environment, I assumed I might not be able to extract as many responses as someone in the dominant community. I do not believe this was the case. I did have to change my dress and behavior, both of which I was more than willing to do in order to research this topic further. I had to alter or shift my behavior when the
106 environment necessitated, and I have documented those instances.
Many fellow Jordanians, ranging from housewives, corporate executives,
students, educators to chauffeurs, are upset about this study. I am told I have turned
my back on my people. I swallow a lot of what is said out of respect, but I
realize my own patterns stemming even from my unconscious peace activist days;
moments where I have critically examined the Armenian, Israeli, or dominant
communities, I faced ridicule. I have been called anti-Armenian, anti-Semitic, anti-
American and now, anti-Jordanian; but I oftentimes wondered, what about being pro- humanity?
My role as the researcher, I believe, was also helpful, as a Jordanian born,
Arabic speaking person. This was a huge asset to me and my research. Although I
did require help talking to people, they felt comfortable talking to an Arab versus an
American, especially given the Anti-American sentiments among some (not all) participants. One other asset, I believe, was my age. As a 26 year old, not too far out of university, I related to my participants. I have also worked in higher education, and I not only love the academic environment, but find I can easily engage with people in their early twenties.
Jacobsen and Landau (2003) specifically investigate the challenges of research focused on forced migrants and their realities. It is very important to address not only my personal challenges during my time in Jordan, but also the methodological and ethical concerns inherent in studying forced migrants. Jacobsen and Landau (2003) address the dual imperative in refugee research: the importance of
107 thoroughly addressing the methodological and ethical concerns of research on forced migrants.
The main methodological concerns they claim weaken refugee research are the researcher’s inability to explicitly inform key factors of the research design and methodology. Researchers should state how interviewers were selected, interviewed, and where interviews took place. Second, the authors state the inherent political and legal marginality of refugees means they have few rights and are susceptible to negative retribution as a result of their willingness to speak and be interviewed.
Next, Jacobsen and Landau (2003) discuss the problems with sampling, interview technique and construct validity. Construct validity speaks to whether or not responses given to interview questions are an accurate indication of what the study seeks to explore. They also emphasize the possible ethical and methodological challenges of having local research assistants’ aid in the research process as a result of political, social, or economic ramifications this poses both to the study and to the participants. Finally, they express concerns with small-scale studies and lack of accurate representative of the target populations.
While some of Jacobsen and Landau’s (2003) concerns regarding the ethical and methodological challenges of refugee research were addressed in Chapter Three, it is important to re-examine and explicitly explore and address them within their contexts. First, I met Jordanian research participants through contacts who had access to recent university graduates. One interview was conducted at the contact’s house because he was a neighbor of the participants. The other two participant interviews were conducted at my aunt and uncle’s house because it was most convenient for
108 participants, as my flat was out of the way.
Jordanian participant interviews did not take place at their homes so as not to
trouble them to be hospitable. Jordanians are known for their hospitality and it would
have been selfish to ask to meet at their homes. This way, at my aunt and uncle’s
home we could serve them food and entertain them as a way of thanking them for their participation. These contacts who connected me to participants were not local researchers, which minimized the concern of furthering their personal and research agendas. It is important to note, while allies in the community were an asset and yet do pose an ethical limitation, the main variables for finding and connecting me to participants was finding graduates, thereby minimizing ulterior motives. It was more difficult than anticipated to find university graduates who were entirely Jordanian or entirely Palestinians because of the pervasiveness of intermarriages. Therefore, participants were randomly selected based on several requirements; those who were full Jordanian or full Palestinian and graduated from a public university were automatically selected to be interviewed. To be considered full Jordanian came with its own requirements; participants’ and their parents had to have historical and tribal lineage to Jordan, which falls in alignment with Jordan’s tribal history.
Palestinian refugee participants were selected through an ally as well. He was considered one of the unofficial leaders and was brought to my attention by a driver.
He told me his neighbor used to be a refugee who just moved outside the camp.
Through this exchange I was able to meet Mr. Abu Ahmad, who led me to three university graduates. The main criteria, once again, was their completion of university so as to evade any possible ramifications of speaking to students still
109 enrolled. The first set of interviews were conducted at Mr. Abu Ahmad’s house, and the second in participant homes in between observations of the respective refugee camps.
The refugee reality seeped in political and social fears and the ethical concerns this posed during my time in Jordan are thoroughly examined in Chapters Four and
Five. In short, many ethical concerns followed me during my time in Jordan and particularly upon returned to the United States. The risk in speaking about such a politically charged subject was at the fore of my mind during my entire stay. Certain strategies were used to minimize risks and to maximize anonymity (both my own and my participants’). While walking through the camps, the DPA permit was hidden, and when it was requested, I tried my best to hand it covering my name with my thumb. Participants were spoken to in private and interview questions were never revealed to anyone except the person being interviewed. When asked about the subject of study, I led people to believe it was about the camps solely, and had nothing to do with life in relation to and alongside Jordanians.
The third concern to be addressed was the small sample size of participants.
Though originally nineteen interviews were conducted, six were eliminated because of participant withdrawal. Further, as addressed in Limitations of the Study, this study does not attempt to generalize the existence of all Jordanians and all Palestinian refugees. These are the opinions of a small group of people. While this study contributes to discourse around Diaspora studies, refugee, transnational, and human rights discourse, generalizations of participant perceptions can not be made to speak for an entire population. Most importantly, my findings and generated themes are not
110 absolute truths, but perceptions. Therefore, the most fundamental position I must take is to assert that my findings can be affirmed or disproved at any time. Jacobsen and Landau (2003) support my claim by stating “the most fundamental prerequisite of good social science [is]: allowing for the possibility that one’s hypothesis however dearly held, could be proven wrong” (pp. 190-191).
While Jacobsen and Landau (2003) imply their preference for large-scale survey data, this goes against my personal preference and philosophy regarding the invaluable nature of qualitative studies utilizing critical ethnography. Finally, although the initial intent was to conduct a full scale ethnography, for personal and professional reasons (addressed above), the study was reduced to a qualitative study, and at best, a small-scale ethnography. I hope I have adequately addressed how my role as a researcher, as well as the methodological and ethical challenges affected the research. Fundamentally, what I sought was perceptions regarding coexistence, and along this journey, I found so much more.
Before taking the journey to collect data for the dissertation, I was jokingly told a blue-eyed, young, and Christian person would be raped, kidnapped, or mistrusted. Interestingly enough, I never feared what refugees could do to me, but rather, what mukhabarat (secret police) were capable of doing if they ever found out my intentions to shed light on Jordanian-Palestinian coexistence. I found myself paranoid on several occasions, oftentimes practicing what I would say if I were ever questioned. I relied heavily on the fact that I had dual citizenships, but loathed carrying around a tape-recorder.
111 Ultimately, my study was compromised when two Palestinian refugee
participants dropped out of my study a week before I was set to return; they dropped
out for fear I was mukhabarat. Mukhabarat can be Jordanian as well as Palestinian, thus reinforcing the complexity of the situation. However, the focus of mukhabarat
reiterated greater social assumption among Palestinian refugees regarding Jordanians
and assimilated Palestinians as oppressors while simultaneously reinforcing Jordanian
assumptions of Palestinian refugees as people who threaten Jordanian national
security. The greater social assumption is reaffirmed by the ghetto-like environment
of the refugee camps.
I grew to resent the fact that people were inquiring about my study, but on the
other hand, I fully understood I would have never collected the invaluable amount of
information and data had I not had the connections I did. However, the more people
knew about me and my study, the more I was exposed. With so many mukhabarat in
Jordan, one is never sure who they are talking to and what information they are providing. I despised having to identify myself or my study, as this compromised my
research.
One very interesting occurrence happened during data collection at Hiteen
refugee camp in Zarqa. Before heading for Hiteen, I was told by a friend to come to
his house at ten in the morning; he arranged for someone to take me to Shneller, a
German boarding school headed by nuns where children filmed a documentary about
refugee children and their life. Nizar (my ally and “in” for the day) and I made our
way 30 minutes outside Amman, only to find locked gates. A guard told us to speak
to someone in the head office. Upon meeting the head and being told we had no
112 authority to enter, we decided to make our way to Hiteen refugee camp. The woman
told us to go to the Hiteen head office and show our permit. The events that
unraveled are noteworthy because my gut tells me the minute we left she made a call
to set us up at Hiteen.
Upon making our way to Hiteen refugee camp, Nizar insisted a trip to the
head office would benefit me and my study; he believed I would find statistics about
the refugee camp and an “official” stance on life at Hiteen. I pleaded with him,
letting him know I would rather go it alone and make my own observations without
anyone’s help. I believe he mistook my insistence as politeness, and with that, I lost
my battle as we climbed the stairs to the main office. Trembling, I handed my permit
to two men. This permit from the Department of Palestinian Affairs has been both a
blessing and curse. My name is on the permit, and I always made sure to show the
permit by covering my name with my thumb, but this time he took it out of my hand,
examining it closely. He asked me what I wanted from them, and I let him know I
was at Hiteen to observe “life”; in my attempts to sound vague, I sounded unprepared and dumb which is something I was okay with. The man ordered me to be more specific, and I told him I was interested in education, health, and the living conditions. The man holding my permit handed back my permit and told me I was forbidden to take pictures, but allowed me to proceed. Relieved, we headed out for the souk (marketplace) and I quickly realized Hiteen was unlike the other refugee camps I had observed.
113 The souk reminded me of being in Syria. It was clean compared to the other
refugee camps I witnessed, and immediately my mind flooded with conspiracy
theories.
Hiteen is very clean in comparison and so far all of the children that I have seen have some sort of shoes on. This place has felt strange to me from the beginning, but I keep observing. The souk is very modern for a camp, and people are using wheel barrels to haul things around. One thing I have had difficulty with is seeing all of the dead sheep hanging—heads, ears and all—just waiting for the blood to dry. Here, it is no different. They are flung over a man’s shoulder in front of me, and I can not help but close my eyes…Chicken slaughter houses are also all over the place. I can still hear them clucking. Fruits, herbs, and veggies are for sale and literally for a second, you forget that you are in a camp. As we exit the souk, we enter the residential part of the camp…All of a sudden an old, red minivan pulls up to us and orders us to stop. I keep walking pretending I do not hear them and I grow more anxious. It is a van filled with five men. I feel the intimidation take over me. (Field notes, August 3, 2006)
The encounter which ensued still feels surreal. Unlike me, Nizar stopped to see what
they had to say and I was irritated. I let him go to find out what they wanted, all the
while remaining out of their sight. He went up to the minivan and spoke to them for what appeared an eternity. As he made his way back to me, he reassured me that
everything was all right. I did not believe him.
All of a sudden the official who was in the office comes out of the minivan. Great! And this is exactly why I didn’t want to go to the office. He comes out and asks what it is he can help me with as if I was the one who stopped him. I tell him, I’m just here to look around. He tells me to ask him questions about what it is I am interested in finding out. “Um, okay, how is education in the camps?” It is the best I could come up with after being simultaneously annoyed and afraid. He continues to tell me that there are five UN schools in the camp and two government schools. There are 11,000 pupils. Education until 10th grade is compulsory and everything at the camps are great. He tells me to take notes, so I am forced to take out a pen and paper and begin to pretend I am interested in what he says, all the while trying to come up with answers and excuses that will not set anything off. He continues to tell me that there are five schools that alternate schedules
114 and the boys and girls are separate. “Is there anything else you want to ask?” he says, and quickly I respond by asking how much a family receives from the UN per month? “Nothing” he says. “How do they pay for rent?” I quickly ask, this time interested in the answer. “They don’t” he explains. I am so confused but I do not want to ask. “Do you have any other questions?” “No,” I say, “but thank you.” (Field notes, August 3, 2006)
Assuming, I was free to move on, I felt much more relieved. He told me, “You are welcome” and just as I was about to let out a sigh of relief, he continued “oh and by the way, we live just like the Jordanians” (Field notes, August 3, 2006). There is no way to prove what I believe to be true, but I honestly think these men sought out looking for me and to let me know they were never too far away. The message they were sending me was, we were being watched and they were not trying to hide it.
Nizar told me we were going to go back to the office to get the statistics he insisted would be present, accurate, and helpful. We made our way back to the head offices and two men emerged from an office. One asked us into his office. The man asked me the purpose of my visit, and I told him I was looking at education in the camps.
He tells me that he is a volunteer at one of the schools. I pretend to be happy as though I just struck gold, but I am unimpressed. He tells me that sometimes there will be 50 students to a class and not enough time for a teacher to cover everything. Education there is great, and life in the camps is good. I pretend to take notes, but I am studying him more [emphasis added]. As a Palestinian living in the camps, he can say that everything is pretty normal, and they live the same way Jordanians do—no different. Again, something in me is triggered. I pretend to be writing so as not make any eye contact. I tell him I noticed how clean the camp is compared to Baqa’a and he explains that it’s because the community cares. He says it is up to the individual and he does not want his kids to play in waste, unlike other places which simply may not care. I see. He tells me school is compulsory until 10th grade, and everything in the camps are successful—they live like any other Jordanian and insists I not to listen to what others in other camps have been telling me. He, as an official
115 knows the ‘truth’. I want to leave as quickly as possible and so, without drinking my coffee, I say thank you and shake hands…The aura in this camp was suspicious and I sense much underhanded business taking place. What did it really cost to keep this place as clean as it is, and running as successfully? Something is definitely up here [emphasis added]. (Field notes, August 3, 2006)
One can call my observation paranoid and without merit, and their judgments would
definitely hold value, but paying closer attention one understands I never told anyone
my study had anything to do with comparative existences between Jordanians and
Palestinian refugees. All the men I spoke to made it a point not only to let me know
they lived the same way as Jordanians, but not to believe anyone who said otherwise.
I firmly believe the men I spoke to were Jordanian or Palestinian mukhabarat. If I was not going as an “American researcher” but rather a Jordanian native or
Palestinian native of Jordan, I wonder if and how the treatment would have differed.
Whether or not I am correct, we will never know. However, it is important to realize because of the pervasiveness of mukhabarat the possibility they could have been present was enough for me to word my questions and behavior carefully. Moreover, it begs the questions, if Jordan is attempting to Americanize, was it a façade? Or more importantly, is the United States becoming more like Jordan?
MMM: Did you talk or discuss politics at university?
JR: It is not allowed at the university, of course, but as individuals we were talking politics among ourselves in such regard, but we were afraid.
MMM: Afraid of what?
JR: We were afraid from any girls who may be agents of mukhabarat [intelligence service]. Here, we have lots incidents’ like that. And there are people who spy. Consequently, when we talk, we talk with the ones we know and trust. Democracy? Nothing! (personal communication, August 10, 2006)
116
The most inherent reality for the refugees was mukhabarat. The possibility of
mukhabarat looms over the minds of the majority of the inhabitants in the refugee
camps.
Palestinian refugee participants were two females, Nour and JR, and one male,
Khaled. JR was never intended to be a participant, and in fact I did not meet her until shortly before I was set to return to the United States. I initially planned to speak to two other refugees: Zeid and Rula, both of which pulled out of my study in the midst of grueling transcriptions and a week before I was supposed to return. Zeid and Rula began to question my identity and feared for their lives. In an attempt to schedule a final interview with Rula, I was told she was in vacationing in Syria. My aunt immediately recognized what was happening; she knew this was a lie intended to distract me and she recommended I begin immediately looking for an alternate participant. I decided if I could conduct another follow-up interview with Zeid (the
first was completely null due to an audiotape malfunction) then I would still meet my
goal of three interviewees; Nour, Khaled, and Zeid.
My aunt kindly dialed Mr. Abu-Ahmad for me and spoke to him because his accent was too difficult for me to comprehend over the phone. He told her a meeting with Zeid was difficult because he was busy and she immediately confronted him about the alleged lies. Mr. Abu-Ahmad finally admitted both my participants were
present, but unwilling to help me any further with my research because they feared
their safety. Zeid’s father threatened to personally shoot him if he spoke to the
“American girl” one more time, and Rula’s parents said unless I conducted the
interviews with security guards present, she was forbidden to speak to me. Knowing
117 full well I could not conduct my interviews with police officers, I had to think quickly. Because of the war in Lebanon and my near completion of all my interviews, I had to find one more person willing to talk and trusting of me before I left. It is in Baqa’a refugee camp where I found JR, whose eloquence and honesty were a blessing.
At this point in my journey, it is not an exaggeration to say I had a breakdown.
All the stresses of conducting radical research in Jordan, coupled with the guilt of
making participants fear for their safety, defending myself and my study, along with
the sheer exhaustion of transcribing and typing interviews all converged. I was also
lonely and missed my family and friends back home. I felt in abandoning Rula and
Zeid, I had abandoned myself and my study. For the first time in almost nine months,
I broke out in hives. I locked myself in my cousin’s room and cried for hours as she patiently listened to me ramble on.
I never returned to Madaba refugee camp again because I felt with every visit,
I was jeopardizing people’s safety. I was never able to say a proper goodbye or thank
you; our goodbyes consisted of one tear filled phone call to Mr. Abu-Ahmad’s son,
who pleaded with me to never forget them or their cause. In Madaba refugee camp, I
felt more at home than in West Amman where I lived for the summer. I felt free and
purpose driven. I look back at my time in Madaba with immense sadness and guilt
that still make it hard for me to reflect and write.
Upon realizing I was no longer able to go to Madaba refugee camp, I began to
quickly employ my connections. Nizar, the kind gentleman who made time to take
me to Hiteen refugee camp recalled a friend in Baqa’a refugee camp whose sister
118 recently graduated from a public university. After a few phone calls and pleading, we
quickly made way to Baqa’a. Even though there was a big barbeque scheduled for
me and my mother, we all knew this was an opportunity I could not afford to miss.
Upon meeting JR and instantly connecting to her, we formed a friendship and began the process of my interview. After four initial interviews, and two participants who dropped out, I ended up with three Palestinian refugee participants: Nour, Khaled,
and finally JR.
Border Identity Challenges
In the midst of a massacre, in the face of torture, in the eye of a hurricane, in the aftermath of an earthquake, or even, say, when horror looms apparently more gentle in memories that wont recede and so come pouring forth in the late-nite quiet of a kitchen, as a storyteller opens her heart to a story listener, recounting hurts that cut deep and raw into the gullies of the self, do you, the observer, stay behind the lens of the camera, switch on the tape recorder, keep pen in hand? Are there limits—of respect, piety, pathos—that should not be crossed, even to leave a record? But if you can’t stop the horror, shouldn’t you at least document it? (Behar, 1996, p.2)
After my return from Jordan on August 26, 2006, I could not confront my
research for nearly two months after conducting field work. The first month, I used
the excuse that I was reflecting; and while I truly was, the real underlying reason was fear. I was afraid what I wrote would not do justice to what I saw. I was afraid to face the emotions I silently carried with me while in Jordan. I was also scared anything I wrote from here on out would ultimately upset so many of my family members abroad. After discussing my trepidations with Dr. Katz, and letting her know my paralysis was due to fear of inadequately telling this profound story, she smiled and told me “you will rise to the occasion” (personal communication, October
9, 2006). As I walked out of her office, I wondered how or why she had so much
119 faith in me. Did she know I had no idea how or where to start? I decided to begin the
only place I knew would be cathartic—with honesty—honesty about my state of mind
upon returning from Jordan.
My trepidation is in no way an indicator of forgetfulness or carelessness.
Rather, it indicates just how entangled and ingrained in the research I became while
abroad. My complete immersion in the study was necessary, and data collection was
systematic and methodical. Years of work culminated in this experience where
everything I read merged into real life. The evolution of this work dawned on me while I was in Jordan, and I could not believe there I was finally talking to the people
I spent years researching. I went there to tell their story, to get their perceptions, and
to understand their realities.
One of my main objectives was to bring legitimacy to the issue of harmonious coexistence. However, what I came to realize upon my return was that on some level,
I felt I abandoned the very people I went to focus on. Writing about my emotions would minimize them, and I realize now that this dissertation will oversimplify the reality in Jordan, because I can not capture the eyes of little orphans, the sadness etched in the mothers’ faces, or the rage engulfing so many youth. Nothing will give those memories justice, except a journey of one’s own. Here, you will only experience this journey through my lens, one blurry from tears silently shed since my return.
One thing I painfully learned and internalized is the reality of research as a
selfish undertaking. Villenas (1996) asks, “As ethnographers, we are also like
colonizers when we fail to question our own identities and privileged positions, and in
120 the ways in which our writings perpetuate “othering” (p. 713).” I realized during my two month hiatus from writing that I am angry at myself as an academic and a scholar. Am I the researcher Villenas (1996) identifies as both the colonizer and colonized? Have I on some level lost touch with my community? And now, rather than an active participant, have I become “researcher-observer”? The not-so- subliminal undertone of researcher as educated, I sense, created a one-up, one-down phenomena I could not shake no matter how hard I tried. I could not hide my privilege, the very privilege I grew to resent.
I am here because I am a woman of the border: between places, between identities, between languages, between cultures, between longings and illusions, one foot in the academy and one foot out. But I am also here because I have an intellectual debt to the Chicano critique of and the creative writing of Chicana authors. (Behar, 1996, p. 162)
The guilt and remorse involved with this research and my role of the
“privileged scholar” still exists within me. I do not think it will ever leave, given my
identity as a transnational immigrant and woman. Moreover the marriage of my cultural identities with my academic capital is still something I negotiate, even more so since my return. Ruth Behar’s (1996) “intellectual debt” is something I think many academics and scholars of color relate to. My intellectual indebtedness provides a new role for me, not necessarily as “researcher-traitor” but rather, agent of change. Now, I have somehow rationalized my privilege. I suppose for someone
who was born and raised in the Middle East, there was a “researcher-as-traitor”
feeling I was unprepared for; me as oppressor?
Here is my own dilemma: as a Chicana graduate student in a White institution and an educational ethnographer of Latino communities, I am both, as well as in between the two. I am the colonized in relation to the greater society, to the institution of higher learning, and to the
121 dominant majority culture in the research setting. I am the colonizer because I am the educated, “marginalized” researcher, recruited and sanctioned by privileged dominant institutioins to write for and about Latino communities. I am a walking contradiction with a foot in both worlds—in the dominant privileged institutions and in the marginalized communities. Yet, I possess my own agency and will to promote my own and the collective agendas of particular Latino communities. (Villenas, 1996, p. 714)
Now, I view this academic journey as a woman who hopes to contribute as much to the field of Middle Eastern literature as possible, knowing full well I am always indebted to the field that gave birth to the thirst and passion of my research agenda.
And so, when Behar (1996) poses the question “But if you can’t stop the horror,
shouldn’t you at least document it?” (p. 2), my answer is simply, “Yes.”
There was a mourning process upon my return from Jordan, as I mourned the
death of my naïveté about Jordan, and mourned leaving behind my family and new
friends. The grieving process and fear led to the paralysis that became my two month
hiatus, and hope came out of the realization that I had a role and a responsibility to
bring scholarly attention to the plight of Palestinian refugees in Jordan.
Loss, mourning, the longing for memory, the desire to enter into the world around you and having no idea how to do it, the fear of observing too coldly or too distractedly or too raggedy, the rage of cowardice, the insight that is always arriving late, as defiant hindsight, a sense of the utter uselessness of writing anything and yet the burning desire to write something, are the stopping places along the way. At the end of the voyage, if you are lucky, you catch a glimpse of a lighthouse, and you are grateful. Life, after all, is bountiful. (Behar, 1996, p. 4)
While I am still not at the point of viewing life as “bountiful” (p. 4), I see the
lighthouse ahead.
122 CHAPTER V: Deconstructing Handala
Meeting Handala
On my second day in Jordan my cousins took me to Starbucks. This “coffee shop” was more of a chic hangout where young women dressed to impress. A large two-level store offered panoramic views of Amman. Leaving the parking lot on our way to Starbucks, I pointed to a bumper sticker on a car, asking my cousins what it symbolized. It was a small caricature of what appeared at the time to be a stick figure; a little boy with hands behind his back, barefooted, and hair sticking straight up.
(http://arab.sa.utoronto.ca/Links.htm , 2006)
One of my cousins said that it was Handala. I asked who Handala was and she said
“it’s a Palestinian thing.” I pressed further, but neither knew who he was or what he
represented.
Razan and I looked up ‘Handala’ and its meaning. OC: This image has stuck with me since I first laid eyes on it. Somehow it will be incorporated in my research…I want to adopt this little boy—make him my own. I feel that he is already with me, and when I think of my
123 research, I think of him, and how I long to see his face. (Field notes, July 25, 2006)
As it turns out the Palestinian political cartoonist, Naji al-Ali created Handala
(meaning bitterness) as a symbol of Palestinian displacement and refugee status. Naji al-Ali states:
The child Handala is my signature, everyone asks me about him wherever I go. I gave birth to this child in the Gulf and I presented him to the people. His name is Handala and he has promised the people that he will remain true to himself. I drew him as a child who is not beautiful, his hair is like the hair of a hedgehog who uses his thorns as a weapon. Handala is not a fat, happy, relaxed, or pampered child, he is barefooted like the refugee camp children, and he is an 'icon' that protects me from making mistakes [emphasis added]. Even though he is rough, he smells of Amber. His hands are clasped behind his back as a sign of rejection at a time when solutions are presented to us the American way [emphasis added]. Handala was born ten years old, and he will always be ten years old. At that age I left my homeland, and when he returns, Handala will still be ten, and then he will start growing up. The laws of nature do not apply to him. He is unique. Things will become normal again when the homeland returns. I presented him to the poor and named him Handala as a symbol of bitterness. At first he was a Palestinian child, but his consciousness developed to have a national and then a global and human horizon [emphasis added]. He is a simple yet tough child, and this is why people adopted him and felt that he represents their consciousness. (Naji al-Ali, in This week in Palestine, 1999)
When asked when we will see Handala’s face, Naji al-Ali continues:
When Arab dignity is no longer threatened, and when the Arab individual regains his freedom and humanity [emphasis added]. Still, the most tiring part is to continue the road with all its contradictions. The weariness of the homeland will always remain deep inside. (Naji al-Ali, in This week in Palestine, 1999)
And so, Handala becomes the indigenous framework of the study. Each of
Handala’s characteristics represents a theme that was presented by the refugees. The interesting footnote to Handala is while it represents a symbol of pride and hope for
Palestinians, it simultaneously represents Jordanian lack of awareness, or interest for
124 that matter. It is here that the framework of this study is born; the lack of Jordanian
consciousness and the heightened Palestinian one. Employing Handala as the
foundation and framework decolonizes my study by setting the innate activist tone of
this piece.
War
Soon after our arrival, my mother and I found ourselves in the midst of what
was to become a war between Hezbollah and Israel.
I am here at a time that is very sensitive in Jordan. It is scary. I feel so close to it, and yet, everyone has become so numb to it all. When one walks in to every store, there is breaking news about what is happening in the Lebanese airport, little children being carried away in stretchers, women crying, and people screaming for mercy. I feel shaken to my core, as I realize how far removed I have been back in the United States, and not by accident. (Field notes, July 13, 2006)
The above entry is the first mention about the war, when neither I nor anyone else
knew what was in store for Jordan or the greater Middle East. I recall fearing for my
own safety and the safety of my family. I worried in silence, however, because my
fearful outlook only highlights my naïveté and how detached I have become living in
the United States. I envisioned my family and friends in the United States watching
their television sets closely, wondering about me, and then going about their day. I also wondered what kind of information they were receiving. I wondered how Jordan would change in the very near future.
There is a lot of unrest and people are fleeing Lebanon to come here by taxi. The news is grim and we are tied to the television. Daily life goes on, but on the fore of everyone’s mind is news that is very close to our borders. Some say the possibilities may have very tragic ramifications in the near future, others say that worse has happened and will continue to happen, and that still we are the only stable country in the Middle East. Sentiments, of course, are diverse. The King made a statement to all Arab nations today: do not get involved
125 and politically this makes very good sense, but I can’t help but think of Jordan’s all too politically correct history and present. (Field notes, July 14, 2006)
On the way home that night, the driver and I spotted the first Lebanese license plate; it was the first of many to come. The demographics of Jordan were rapidly changing:
To date, it has been rumored that hundreds of thousands of Lebanese people have crossed the border to Jordan. The number of refugees almost over-month has risen dramatically. However, the numbers by foot and by car will diminish slowly as all infrastructures for civilians to get in and out have been successfully targeted and now lay in ruins. I am starting to really see why they hate us and not in the same why I did before. I knew it all along, but now it is materializing before my eyes. But I am also very ironically starting to empathize a little with the magnitude of the conflict. In other words, I am angered by the fact that Arab nations are politically disorganized and not on the same level with one another. It creates fury within. Where are we—Jordan—in this war and why haven’t we stepped up? How will this affect my research? It has been less than a month since the war. The sites on TV have been devastating, and being so near to war is eye opening for me. (Field notes, July 25, 2006)
Notions of my own privilege emanate.
I am afraid. I have not been in a situation like this before. I realize my own privilege. I am so used to being so far detached and distant. My cousins are so accustomed to these occurrences and are no longer fazed by them. They think my interest in such things is futile and silly. I am so afraid to go into the refugee camps given what’s been taking place, but I am trying to convince myself that now is a very important time to go. (Field notes, July 14, 2006)
And so, the stage was set. While I was preparing for my study, neighboring nations prepared for war.
126 Jordanian Participants
Three Jordanian alumni were interviewed twice. The first interviews lasted
from an hour to an hour and a half. The follow up interviews lasted between half an
hour to an hour. All three Jordanian alumni participants wound up being men. Shadi,
a 23 year old recent graduate from the esteemed Jordan University of Science and
Technology [JUST] holds a Mechanical Engineering degree and was training for
Royal Jordanian Airlines. Shadi is eager to make money and because it is so difficult
in Jordan he contemplates the possibility of having to leave his home country and go
anywhere where upward mobility is more likely. He does not have any idea where he
can go, but he realizes the likelihood of having to leave for economic stability.
Shadi’s father is a retired police officer who was highly regarded in the community; I
was told that when his father entered the room, people saluted him.
Ibrahim, a native Jordanian and graduate of the University of Jordan is driven
by the Christian faith. As an employee of the Finance Department of Royal Jordanian
Airlines, Ibrahim as well as many of his peers have grown frustrated with the
economic reality in Jordan. Ibrahim also sees his future residence outside Jordan,
working to make money. He hopes when and if he returns to help his native Jordan.
The financial strains on his family have impacted his need and desire for stable work.
Upon completing our interview he discussed his sister’s unemployment. When he
mentioned that she was seeking a job in banking, we quickly arranged for her to have
an interview with a contact at one of the banks in Jordan.
Osama is a 22 year old graduate from Hashemite University, and like Shadi, majored in Mechanical Engineering. Ossama is currently training to become an
127 engineer. Osama loves his mechanical engineering background, and although he does not know where he will live in ten years, one thing he knows for sure is his profession as a mechanical engineer. He dreams of one day being an engineering professor.
Interview questions revolved around Palestinian refugee existence in Jordan, the role
of Jordan in the Middle East, and the role of education in both fostering or
disregarding Palestinian ethnic identity and coexistence (See Appendix G and H).
Once again the research questions for Jordanians were: What are the experiences and
perspectives of Jordanians regarding Jordanian and Palestinian coexistence? How
does the sociopolitical climate contribute to Jordanian perspectives of coexistence?
How do education and the “hidden curriculum” address coexistence?
Answering the Research Questions: Jordanian Perceptions
It was difficult to conduct a study that aimed to understand Jordanian
perceptions of a sustained Palestinian presence; it was even more difficult to
understand both the role of the sociopolitical climate, as well as the role of academia.
The main reasons for the difficulty had nothing to do with garnering trust from
Jordanian participants (as was the case with Palestinian refugees); the main reason
was conscious ambivalence. The overall undertone among Jordanians was willful
and deliberate abstinence from politics, one that was encouraged in the personal,
local, and national realms.
The reasons for nonchalant approaches and participation to the sociopolitical
climate in Jordan are varied. First, it has to do with identity—the umbrella from
which all other reasons exist. The identity of Jordanians as non-meddlers and non-
instigators extends to the alumni participants of this study and applies also to the
128 Monarchy. One can even draw a parallel between the ambivalence of the people, as
well as the foreign policies of the government. In both instances, there is the desire to
maintain peace, even at the cost of taking necessary action.
The second reason is one of privilege. One could pose the question, why is
the white United States oblivious to the strife of minorities? The answer is; because
they can be. In essence, wealthy Jordanians have bought political ambivalence,
because their privilege allows them to do so. Ibrahim, a graduate from the University
of Jordan, born and raised in Amman, Jordan states:
Ibrahim: …[C]lass makes a difference. When you are in upper class, you don’t think of these issues. You see it like, uh, silly issues. Uh yeah, yeah, uh, in classes your priority is different. So, uh, the priority maybe is different when you are in high classes. Now maybe, I’m fighting my way to be successful, I would see anyone, either he is on my side or against me. But if I am a successful, the [financial] security is somehow reachable, so I won’t think of people the same way. (Ibrahim, personal communication, August 6, 2006).
The third reason is education. The emphases in education lie in engineering
programs and finance or banking, both of which are invaluable to economic
development in Jordan. However, what I call “critical education” is nonexistent. The
emphasis on education for upward economic mobility, and the upward national
mobility of Jordan are more important than asking ‘futile’ questions that critically examine the national order, thereby dumbing down Jordanians, and frustrating
Palestinian refugees. What remains is the overall pan-Jordanian mobility at the cost of the individual, culminating in the slogan, “Jordan First”. The emphasis is so heavily placed on Westernization and pan-Jordanian economic success that ethnic identity, critical education, and political participation fall to the periphery. Ibrahim
states:
129 MMM [Researcher]: What we are talking about now, is the economy of Jordan is kind of gone up too with rise of lands, and houses and more of these things. Have you benefited? Has this helped you at all?
Ibrahim: No. Maybe it helped the economy, uh as a finance source. Yes I could say this is helped the economy of Jordan, it strengthened the JD, maybe a lots of foreign currency come to the country it is good for the economy. As I said, okay they might have some rights but to take my rights. Of course, the government they pulled this money from Iraq, there is a finance word for it, uh. So it’s good for the economy, but bad for people. (Personal communication, August 6, 2006)
First Research Question: Jordanian Perceptions of the Sociopolitical Climate
Many themes were generated from Jordanian alumni participants as well as my observations of Jordanian society at large. Most of my observations were met with resistance from my aunts and uncles, and again I have to tread lightly while simultaneously not compromising the authenticity of my study. Therefore, I have struggled for months about maintaining both the legitimacy of my observations and validating my family’s argument. I ultimately do not live in Jordan, and fundamentally can not begin to understand what it is like to not only coexist with
Palestinian refugees, but coexistence in the Middle East at large.
Of the three participants, two seemed to express ambivalence surrounding
Jordanian and Palestinian refugee coexistence. Repeatedly, there was mention of the
difference between the wealthy and assimilated Palestinians versus the
underprivileged refugees who seem to be causing all the “problems,” if and when
they arise. It appears once again affluence along with assimilation make Palestinians
tolerable. In one conversation with a young Jordanian woman, she spoke, “I think the
rich ones should be able to stay, it is the poor ones that must leave” (personal
communication, August 6, 2006).
130 It is safe to say that many of the perceptions surrounding coexistence have to
do with ability to blend in, and generate money. However, this sentiment does not
translate to all refugees and immigrants coming to Jordan. There is a growing anti-
immigrant, anti-refugee sentiment surrounding Iraqis who fled the US led war in Iraq.
Most of those who fled were those who could afford to. With this emergence of a new minority in Jordan, coupled with heightened fears of terrorism, a fear of the
“other” began to spread. Herein lies one of Jordan’s most curious realities: the
King’s acceptance of refugees and immigrants to Jordan, and here lies the discrepancy between the Monarchy and the people. Therefore, when a researcher such as I suggests that Jordan’s vacillating support for other Arabs lacks the
necessary direction and collective empathy, it is understandable that the response is:
Are you kidding? What more can we do?
Anti-Immigrant, Anti-Refugee Sentiment
If you ask Shadi, he is not privileged because he considers the flood of
immigrants coming to Jordan as jeopardizing his future financial success. Here is a
very interesting moment in my interview with Shadi; in our discussion notions of the
economy, the flood of immigrants and refugees to Jordan, and privilege all converge:
MMM: Do you think if they got their land the problem would go away?
Shadi: Well, I think that they won’t get their land.
MMM: You don’t think they will get their land. Well, now we are talking about the importance of land. I see now that the last time I came here was six years ago, and now since six years ago, I see a lot of Lebanese now, Iraqis, Palestinians. There is a very big number of refugees, a very big number of immigrants coming to Jordan. Uh, what do you think about the number of immigrants and refugees
131 coming here?
Shadi: Everyone is talking about these numbers and everyone is uh, they are not happy with these numbers of refugees to Jordan, okay? Uh, Jordan if you want to say before uh lets say, in 1950s in 1930s the whole number of Jordanians wouldn’t reach three million, four million. Now, we are six million. Uh, or with refugees we may be
MMM: Double!
Shadi: Double million. There are three million [non-Jordanians], which is a big number, okay? If you can go to any Jordanian family, uh, uh they feel their salaries, they feel what they want to get. As the salary goes upwards, then they will feel. There is no doubt, meaning it takes and it puts, like uh, America now I know that there is a normal doctor, if he became a professor, the professor begins to take more salary, more money. Okay, but there are taxes, on the salary, okay? (personal communication, August 6, 2006)
Shadi continues by discussing how the amount of salary he makes is very little given how expensive everything has become in Jordan. Whereas a onetime salary of 500
JDs a month was impressive, it can barely make ends meet now. Herein lies the problem for Shadi and many others, and the source of the problem appears to be the influx of refugees who have come to Jordan, set up residence, and seemingly live better in Jordan than Jordanians can.
Shadi: The apartments before two years had a price of JD 50,000 let’s say, now it’s doubled. So how will I pay this if I want to marry, having a salary let’s say 1000JDs and I want to live my life happy and I want to have a wife and children. Tell me where I can and when I can marry. [Pause]Tell me. How much years do, do I want to marry? (Shadi, personal communication, August 6, 2006)
Shadi’s frustration is not exclusive only to him; in fact per observations many young
Jordanians find themselves in seemingly discouraging situations. In order to be able to get married and support a family, money is necessary. However, many men see the current economy setting back their future plans of marriage.
132 Perhaps one reason for the incorrect inferences about the influx of immigrants
and refugees might be because many Jordanians do not venture outside West Amman,
the most affluent part of the country. However, some do, and what they find are
Jordanians living in poverty. There is a sense that it is not okay for Jordanians to live in poverty, and I strongly agree. Jordanian loyalty for Jordanians is unshakeable, and perhaps this is one of the similarities between Jordanians and Palestinians: the unending support for one’s culture. However, the opposite side of the argument is
that some Jordanians live in poverty because some non-Jordanians do not.
Shadi: Yeah, of course, we didn’t benefit and we are still suffering. We suffering at every single dinner, or, or every single coin, or JD, or dinner, okay, has its own meaning. This is for let’s say taxes, this is for uh, telephone payment, this is for electricity, this is for uh diesel, for water, okay this is for gasoline for our cars, two cars, okay and for me okay, I want to buy, to eat, to go,
MMM: So do you wish then that the immigrants or refugees didn’t come?
Shadi: Everyone wish, wish, wish that! (Shadi, personal communication, August 6, 2006)
The inaccuracy of such a statement facilitates anti-immigrant and xenophobic
sentiments. I have found no documentation of the quantitative comparison between
Jordanian-Palestinian poverty in Jordan, which would have strengthened or negated either argument for poverty in the country. However several facts remain about
Jordan as a country without natural resources, surrounded by instability, and run by a
Monarchy that allows the flow of immigration and refugees while simultaneously
trying to drive modernity and westernization to the land. Jacobsen (1996) addresses
several key factors which affect refugee policies. She breaks them down to
bureaucratic choices of the government, international relations, the capacity of the
133 host country, and finally security (Jacobsen, 1996). All factors undoubtedly affect
both Jordan’s abilities to harbor laji’een and the quality of life al-laji’een receive.
MMM: Uh huh. So you think this is a problem?
Shadi: Of course.
MMM: That all the refugees and immigrants are coming to Jordan.
Shadi: Of course, of course, of course. (Shadi, personal communication, August 6, 2006).
Shadi’s sentiments are a very accurate portrayal of the general consensus in Jordan.
The truth is many Jordanians have suffered as a result of the economic milieu in
Jordan. In fact, it was not uncommon for people to ask me why I was studying
Palestinian refugees instead of Jordanians living in poverty; “at least they have the
UN” they would remark. I am not an economist, nor do I claim to understand the
finances in Jordan, but one observation I made holds some validity; everyone
complains about the market in Jordan, and some rightfully so, but at the same time,
Jordan’s economy is profiting a great deal from wealthy immigrants.
I always hear people, the general public here talking about the immigrants and refugees that have come, but not in a good way. What they may or may not realize however, is Jordan’s massive economic boom in large part is because of the rise in sheer numbers of people. (Field notes, July 25, 2006)
The apathy for the Palestinian refugee problem and ambivalence towards
national consciousness, paired with immigrant resentment, culminates in the
Jordanian perceptions of the sociopolitical climate. However, while I went searching
for the role sociopolitical and academic climates played in Jordanian-Palestinian
refugee coexistence, I underestimated the role of the socioeconomic reality, one that
is very complex. As Benedict Anderson (1999) states, “The dreams of racism have
134 their origin in ideologies of class, rather than in those of nation: above all in claims to divinity among rulers and to ‘blue’ or ‘while’ blood and ‘breeding’ among atrocities”
(p. 149). Racism then, according to Anderson (1999), manifests itself not across
borders, but within them, and therefore justifies domestic oppression.
MMM: What do you think Palestinians think about Jordanians?
Shadi: Well, uh. It depends, it depends on if it is a refugee or a rich one.
MMM: So you think money has to do with it.
Shadi: Yes! Money, money, money everything. No money no funny!
MMM: [Laughs] So, tell me now, what do you think a Palestinian refugee thinks about a Jordanian?
Shadi: [Pause] Palestinian refugees? I don’t know. I don’t know what they think. I think it depends on how they live. If they were very happy, then they would say that Jordanians are very good to them.
MMM: No, they live in desperate circumstances.
Shadi: No, of course, then they won’t love Jordan anymore. [Pause] Of course. (Personal communication, August 6, 2006).
My interview questions regarding the influx of immigration were passionately
received and the issue ultimately all participants wanted to discuss. The growing
number of immigrants coupled with growing native-Jordanian resentment yields
inter-societal tensions, cultural imperialism, and hegemony; all of which remain
completely nonexistent in scholarly research in Jordan.
It appears many Jordanians have convinced themselves they are used to
Palestinian refugees, and some I suppose are; however, there is a difference between
acceptance and getting used to the idea of the ethnic minority/majority. I say ethnic
minority/majority because statistics show more Palestinians exist in Jordan than
135 Jordanians (see Research Problem)! The real problem if you ask Jordanians is not the
Palestinian refugees, but the Iraqis:
MMM: What do you think now, when we talk bout Jordan, we talked about Jordan and its history and we talk about Jordan now, and we see the Iraqi’s coming, and now the Lebanese people coming, we see a lot of Palestinians, a lot of immigrants coming to this country, what do you think about this rise of immigration to Jordan, and refugees coming to Jordan? How do you feel about that?
Ibrahim: Ah, it’s something we used to enjoy it in the beginning, but now we don’t because it’s affecting our lives in a bad way, you could say. Yes feel sometimes [laughing] there’s a joke in the street (someone foreigner is saying to his friend; ah the Jordanians are increasing in this country).
MMM: Yeah.
Ibrahim: So we feel like that we are the minority. So, um, it’s something else. I don’t like it personally, it’s not very often, but in the same way it’s not to have right just like the Jordanians, I don’t like the foreigners to come and share [with] me my rights. Maybe you don’t understand what I am talking about.
MMM: No I do. So, you feel you don’t have rights?
Ibrahim: No, it’s not what I meant. I meant they are the same as my rights. They are even taking all of my rights. Um, especially the Iraqi’s, you know. The government opened the doors for them. And they came in a big numbers, very, big, big number…Other things, the rented houses, it went up so quickly, you rarely find a house now. A year ago they got the right to own, this is a big issue, this is, we are talking politics now…in Gulf area, it full of British and full of many nationalities, but they are not uh, allowed to buy and own stuff, because they live there for many years, they are not allowed, so only buy a car maybe. But here they came, they buy lands, and, flats and whatever, so the prices (whistling). (August 6, 2006)
Analogous to the White Man’s Burden in the United States, Jordanians view the coexistence as a burden that almost creates a martyr-mentality regarding the
Palestinian Burden. This notion of martyrdom will be furthered later on in the chapter.
136 Osama, the third and final Jordanian participant was the anomaly. Osama
represents what I hope Jordanians will one day strive toward; his awareness of the
injustices and his refusal to accept and internalize the realities were a source of hope,
perhaps the only source of hope I found during my time in the Middle East.
MMM: Now, you have a lot immigrants coming, refugees coming to Jordan now, now Lebanon, from Iraq, Palestinians. There are so many millions. What do you think of the high number of people coming to Jordan?
Osama: Uh, it’s a good thing, I think. Because there are lots of immigrants, they bring their money here, and also they came away from war, and uh, protesting and uh and all things in their countries. So, it came out of you. Because I think they aren’t finding any other place, so it would be sad for them not to come here, and live with us.
MMM: What I am understanding now, that you’re saying, it’s good to bring the money for investments, and it’s sad they have had a really rough time, and Jordan is safe for them.
Osama: Yeah. But it is really difficult, you know, there is no place to live, you know…And you can’t feel and you can’t give love and passion for your family because there is all war and [inaudible]. (Osama, personal communication, August 11, 2006)
In meetings with Osama, one is quickly able to realize he brings a consciousness
which transcends the wealthy sector of Amman as well as national (Jordanian)
borders. He makes connections between the national and global wars people escape in coming to Jordan, all the while realizing their plight as refuges or immigrants in a
new land. In many cases, being a refugee precludes a Palestinian (or Iraqi, etc) from
upward mobility. While many speak of the collective Jordanian burden in harboring
these refugees, Osama is able to do what only a handful of Jordanians I spoke to could: he attempted to understand.
137 Interestingly enough Osama knows he is an anomaly and his perceptions are not the norm (contrary to what most want to believe). In the beginning of our second meeting, Osama wants to warn me not all Jordanians see things as he does, and upon going home after the interview and his reflections, he worries he is not a good indicator of collective Jordanian perceptions:
Osama: Sure, I go home, uh, thought a lot about it, because um, I thought maybe I wasn’t that objective, uh with my answers because you know, uh, not all Jordanians think like that. You know, I don’t want to give that good of an idea or impression for you. Because really I have friends that they are like a cancer and they really hate Palestinians and I know people from Jordan, they really because they uh, when they know that I am Jordanian, they came and [inaudible] I remember maybe before two years one them told me that um, he don’t allow Palestinians to enter his house.
MMM: He doesn’t allow Palestinians to enter his house?
Osama: Yeah. Yeah. And also Muslims too, okay. So, not all people are like I think and like I told you I inherited these thoughts from my parents. And they also they inherited their thoughts from their parents
MMM: Right
Osama: So, uh, it’s not completely the same for all other guys. Maybe it was just by coincidence that you got me [laughs]… I wish all Jordanians would be like me. I know for them I am wrong. Maybe if some people when uh, uh, most of my friends, they ask me where have you been maybe I didn’t tell that him because maybe I would go mad if they knew that really these are my thoughts and opinions, you know. Because for them, maybe I am a coward or I don’t have any patriotism or whatever, so uh, just I hope that maybe with time, their thoughts will be different because I didn’t have this uh kind of thoughts and opinions. (August 11, 2006)
It is important to note, while Osama was able to articulate Palestinian refugee inequities and injustices, he reaffirms anti-immigrant and anti-refugee sentiment when it comes to the Iraqi presence.
138 MMM: …So, what does the presence or you seeing so many refugees in Jordan mean to you?
Osama: Palestinian or Arabic refugees?
MMM: More specifically Palestinians.
Osama: I am getting used to it, but I am not getting used to Iraqi refugees because that to me is another race and really another nation, other thoughts and ideas. We didn’t act with them yet, you know. (August 11, 2006)
In other words, Osama considers Palestinians as very similar to Jordanians, therefore
making it easy to “act with them” unlike Iraqis which he considers “another race”
entirely. The complexity of Arab identification cannot be overstated: for instance, many Jordanians state Palestinians and Jordanians are one in the same, even twins
(See Literature Review). This is true in some cases; cases wherein those Palestinians
have assimilated, consider themselves Jordanian, have distanced themselves from the
Palestinian struggle, and are not an economic burden to society at large. If one is
speaking about Palestinians in those terms, then yes, one will find many Jordanians
who agree with the notion that Palestinians and Jordanians are one in the same.
Lack of Critical (Inter) National Consciousness and Blind-Faith Westernization
When asking Shadi about political participation and the political climate,
notions of ambivalence arise.
MMM: What do you think of politics in Jordan? Specifically you said that you think the biggest problem is politics, what do you think about politics in Jordan?
Shadi: Well, I don’t think I uh, well uh, I am new to hearing politics or see politics on the TV, television, I am new for this subject. I, don’t bother myself to thinking about politics or thinking about anything that bothers me, okay? I want to live my life happy; have a family, have my children, have my parents, uh being settled okay?
139
MMM: Uh huh.
Shadi: I don’t need to think with politics.
He continues:
MMM: Do you wish you learned more about this subject?
Shadi: About Palestinians and Jordanians?
MMM: Yes
Shadi: No
MMM: Why?
Shadi: I don’t want to bother myself. I don’t want to lose my temper for nothing. Nothing is worth it. (Shadi, personal communication, August 6, 2006)
It is safe to say many young adult Jordanians are taught not to involve themselves in politics because it only leads to trouble. Essentially, political participation translates to meddling and seeking confrontations. In a discussion with a family acquaintance and proud Jordanian, we discussed some of the generated themes that arose on behalf of Jordanians. Upon telling her my discovery of political ambivalence, she quickly remarked, “Of course; Jordanians do not go searching for trouble” (personal communication, August 1, 2006); the assumption behind her statement being the incorrect reversal that non-Jordanians go searching for trouble.
Shadi’s statements regarding wanting to stay out of trouble and not wanting to bother himself are common findings among newly graduated, and privileged youth throughout Jordan. Shadi was not the exception, but the norm; Ibrahim one of the other participants seconds the ambivalence.
140 MMM: Now I heard that they have at the University, they have protests from time to time. Did you participate in any protests at the University?
Ibrahim: Personally, no: I never. Uh, I never was interested in this issue. Uh, yeah we would see it, you know. And we would hear about it, live in it somehow, but I have never been a part of it. (Personal communication, August 6, 2006).
The lack of critical national consciousness and privilege, in turn, resulted in an
absence of critical national dialogue surrounding issues of immigration,
Jordanization, pan-Arabism, and globalization. The urge to engage in an exchange of
ideas regarding sociopolitical realities in Jordan was confined mainly to the home.
The reasons for a confined dialogue, assuming one exists, are varied: fear of
repercussions, Jordanian self-proclaimed non-meddling in political spheres (in other
words, not asking for trouble, which relates to the aforementioned factor of the
culture of fear in Jordan), and ambivalence as a result to privilege.
One of my assumptions was participant anti-American sentiment as a unifying factor; I anticipated participant anger over the role of the United States. On the
contrary, most of the participants viewed the United States’ role in Jordan as a
necessary evil. Jordan is a country surrounded by warfare and social, economic, and
political instability and conflict:
141
(http://www.1stjordan.net/content/pictures/map.jpg, 2002)
Israel/Palestine, Syria, Lebanon, Iraq, Egypt, And Saudi Arabia are neighboring
Jordanian countries. The explicit necessity on behalf of the Jordanian Monarchy is to
maintain a national stronghold over its inhabitants, thus making the United States an
implicit inevitability. In other words, many citizens of Jordan (Jordanian and some
Palestinians) believe a United States presence is not only desirable, but essential to
sustained peace, once again opening Jordan up to criticism for reliance on the West at
the expense of pan-Arab identity.
Jordan is strategically using the United States, and vice versa. While Jordan
desires a stronghold over its people and neighboring countries vis-à-vis the United
States, the United States is strategically maintaining a presence in the Middle East
142 through surrogates like Israel, Jordan, Egypt, and Saudi Arabia. Ultimately, Jordan
has much more to lose and the more control the United States possesses in the Middle
East, the more short term peace will exist, but at the expense of sustained and longstanding peace in the long term.
While native Jordanian citizens and the Monarchy do not agree politically or
socially about the refugee and immigrant problem in Jordan, it appears the role of the
United States remains undisputed by the general populace. Moreover, while
Jordanians and Palestinians (refugees and non-refugees) are indoctrinated with the
Jordanian nationalist slogan “Jordan First”, they are also indoctrinated with blind- faith westernization that local, national, and global notions reinforce as “necessary” steps. Therefore, Jordanians and some Palestinians, both refugees and non-refugees, have internalized the message of a necessary United States presence for sustained peace.
Shadi and Ibrahim are aligned with this train of thought and have internalized
the United States’ role and presence as essential to Jordan’s prolonged safety. While
they disagree with the Monarchy on its social issues regarding refugees and
immigrants, they agree with geo-strategic and geopolitical Jordanian-United States
relations. As Shadi states, “Jordan is in the middle of war, okay? The environment
now is uneasy; it makes you uneasy, you know?” (Personal communication, August
6, 2006)
Shadi is correct in his analysis of an uneasy climate; I noticed my own heightened fear and paranoia while abroad. At first, I had a difficult time negotiating
whether my fear was legitimate or whether it was because of my own internalized
143 oppression and notions of Arabs. Ultimately, I think it was a little of both. All shopping malls and grocery stores have metal detectors at the entrance. Either a security guard is overseeing people enter and exit, or a woman is checking purses.
Initially, this scene ingrained even more fear in me, but it made most people feel safer.
I also realized that I am way more fearful and way more aware of my whereabouts here than in the States. I do not know if it is because I am in the region or what, or if it is because of the war. I am not afraid of the refugees though. I heard planes above my flat today and they were very loud. I haven’t heard planes above before, and certainly never that loud. I quickly recognized a knot in my stomach and I ran to the window to look up. I couldn’t see them; maybe they were directly above my house. All I know is that it triggered deep fear, and I thought maybe they were planes headed to Lebanon or maybe there is something going on that we don’t know about. I am sure if I said this to anyone in my family they would laugh at my naïveté. Also, going to my aunt and uncle’s house I see undercover police hanging around nearby, listening in on a handheld radio. I would never have guessed it because I thought they were just guys hanging out. It was the driver who brought this to our attention. I was so afraid, but I concealed it. Why would they be here? The driver tells us they are probably there because the United States embassy is very close to where they live. I pretended to be satisfied with the answer I got. I hate the fear. (Field notes, July 27, 2006)
Fear in Jordan is embedded in the national consciousness. This notion will be further
developed later in this chapter, but for now it is important to position the
sociopolitical climate in the midst of immense fear, mine included. Per obserbations
the prevailing Jordanian sentiment (even if it is a false sense of safety) is that the
United States presence in the Middle East confers Jordan’s sense of security.
MMM: What do you think about Jordan’s relationship with the United States?
Shadi: It’s very good.
144 MMM: You think it’s good. Shadi: I love it.
MMM: Really?
Shadi: Yes, of course.
MMM: There are a lot of people who say “no, I think it’s turning their back, or they are being puppets” or—?
Shadi: No. No. The circumstances are what? We have a war, okay, every way around us, okay? If the United States is not there we will be suffering [emphasizes by speaking it slowly and in a louder tone], we will be all Jordanian refugees. We will be refugees, in our land also.
MMM: Right.
Shadi: This is the truth, America is here to protect us, if America wasn’t protecting us. If America wasn’t protecting us, I would not be sitting here with you, and I have one leg over the other, and I am drinking beer, okay? And you are studying your doctorate.
MMM: So you don’t, do think maybe it’s not good to be dependent on the United States? Or is it normal?
Shadi: It’s good. It’s good. It’s normal, normal. It’s good. (Personal communication, August 6, 2006).
Shadi’s remarks are the norm among Jordanians and particularly Christians who are the minority in Jordan. Although I will not be delving into the cross-religious tensions in Jordan, it is fair to say they exist.
Due to the presence of so many cross-religious, cross-border, and cross-ethnic and national tensions, the United States presents itself as the only viable solution to steady economic, political, and social existences in Jordan. When asked about life in
Jordan, Ibrahim states, “Well life in Jordan as most people say, it’s fantastic but you need the income of Europe or western country” (personal communication, August 6,
2006). Dependence on the West seems more important than the consequences;
145 indeed in weighing out the risks and benefits of Western reliance, for most people it is a no-brainer.
MMM: What do you think about Jordan’s relationship with the United States?
Ibrahim: You mean as a people, or as a government?
MMM: Politically.
Ibrahim: Very good, the best in the region. As a politician side, a political side, no…I think it’s very good, very good relationship. (August 6, 2006)
Osama, reaffirms Ibrahim and Shadi’s thoughts when asked about Jordan’s relationship with the United States, “[pause] I think it’s a good relationship” (Osama, personal communication, August 8, 2006). When pressed further about whether or not he agrees with it, he simply replies, “yes”. (Osama, personal communication,
August 8, 2006). The simple manner with which Osama responds is arguable do to several factors which have already been addressed, but are worth mentioning again; the notion of Jordanians as non-meddlers, coupled with the fear.
146 Second Research Question: Jordanian Perceptions of Education and the Hidden Curriculum
Jordanian perceptions regarding academia were akin to perceptions of the
sociopolitical context: academia was the microcosm of the macro-sociopolitical context. This finding supports San Juan’s (1996) claims of the importance of addressing and acknowledging the true definition of culture as a social process embedded in material social associations. The Jordanian participants exhibited ambivalence towards critical education, which follows the sociopolitical ambivalence depicted towards national critical consciousness. The major emphasis in Jordan is on pan-Jordanian economic success and boom, as well as globalization, which to some extent threatens the ‘buy in’ necessary for liberation education and social integration.
Moreover, the similarities between the sociopolitical context and education in
Jordan fit the critical ethnography paradigm so well, as the interconnectedness of different cultural sectors emanate. The spillover from the economy, politics, institutions, and academia all affect culture and notions of cross-cultural studies. The reality of globalization is threatening the sociopolitical and academic contexts as well as emancipatory and radical research such as this one. The “one size fits all” approach one finds in Jordan completely contradicts the true cultural (economic,
political, educational) makeup of the country.
The themes generated from the participants regarding education reflected the
need to compete in a global market, or education for development. In essence, the
socio-economic context shaped the educational context.
Osama: So, I think, I will see Amman [become] like Dubai, like maybe, like, like uh, jobs, careers…As I see it now in Jordan, there is too many Jordanian interests are becoming privatized and foreign. So,
147 frankly they are not just any corporations, sensitive ones like Jordanian telecommunications, and for instance Royal Jordanian Airlines. It’s being privatized. These are very important and big companies that are going to become privatized. After a while, the education might also be privatized. This is something very good because we can benefit from foreign proficiency and foreign experts. (Osama, personal communication, August 8, 2006)
Although the socio-economic context helped fashion academia in Jordan, the
sociopolitical context perpetuated social inequities; the presumption being while the
impacts of globalization had implications on academia, the impacts of the
sociopolitical context recreated the inequities in the greater academic community.
The Jordanian participants supported claims of education for globalization, but
refuted claims of Palestinian refugee inequities in academe.
When I asked Osama about the academic climate at his university, he replied,
“educationally it is very good, but socially it’s not very good” (Osama, personal
communication, August 8, 2006). What he seems to suggest in his testimony was
supported by many native Jordanians; while the social tensions on campus exist, the
academic rigor is ever present. When Shadi was asked what Jordanian education is
missing, he pauses before saying, “well higher education in Jordan or education in
Jordan is going forward. Upwards” (personal communication, August 9, 2006).
When I pressed further and asked what he would change, he replied, “nothing”
(Shadi, personal communication, August 9, 2006). In our continued interaction, I asked once again what Shadi’s perceptions were of education and he responded,
“Perfect” (personal communication, August 9, 2006). When most participants were asked about their perceptions of university, the automatic assumption was that they were being asked about rigor and their responses reflected participant views that
148 higher education had high standards. In other words, education is equated with tangible knowledge, and did not include autonomy, quality teaching, or what I call critical education.
When pressed about inequities and tensions, things were not so clear. In an attempt to address perceptions about the hidden curriculum some participants grew defensive. Here, the hidden curriculum in the Jordanian participant context seeks to understand inequities in academia, the dissemination of national identity, or tensions between Palestinians and Jordanians. The prevalence of the hidden curriculum appears to be so pervasive that the Jordanian participants were unable to identify it.
Shadi particularly resented the line of questioning:
MMM: Do you think that education, you’re saying education here is—
Shadi: Perfect.
MMM: Perfect. Do you think it’s the same for you and for a refugee?
Shadi: Yes of course. Because there is something here called makrameh, [royal grants]. Meaning it gives you chairs.
MMM: I read that the King gave 4,000 seats I think to Palestinian refugees
Shadi: I think so.
MMM: And when I brought it up to one of the refugees, they said that it was all for show because they gave the seats, but they all had to pay.
Shadi: Okay how much refugees we have in Jordan?
MMM: 1.8 million registered
Shadi: [raises his voice] 1.8 million they need seats in the universities? The country’s budget 1.2 or 3.2 million dollars. Okay? So how will it withstand all of this?...There are refugees living more than the Jordanians. There are villages in the south of Amman, south
149 of Jordan in Karak, Mafraq, Tafileh, there are people living in the villages that don’t know the a’s, b’s and c’s.
MMM: Right.
Shadi: Let’s say Jordanians have the right more than the refugees. Know what I mean? (Shadi, personal communication, August 9, 2006)
Shadi’s honesty exposes one of the underlying tensions of competing victimhoods; the Jordanian burden to help Palestinian refugees when so many of their “own” are suffering. There is indeed validity to this argument, but this “us versus them” mentality further exacerbates Jordanian and Palestinian refugee coexistence, while enabling the mentality of Palestinian indebtedness and the martyr-mentality of
Jordanians. This mirrors many of the responses I received upon telling people of my
intention to explore Palestinian refugee realities within Jordanian borders; why?
Shadi’s reaction to questions about whether or not Palestinian refugees receive
the same level of education and opportunities as Jordanians was to deflect and highlight Jordanians living in poverty. On some level, so long as Jordanians were living in poverty Palestinian poverty was a non-issue, or at least muted by the fact that Jordanians were the priority. The argument goes: Palestinian refugees living in poverty are equal to Jordanians who live in poverty; and wealthy Palestinians exist in
Jordan, therefore, Palestinians and Jordanians are on the same footing. According to
Shadi, if Palestinian refugees could not succeed academically it had nothing to do with a lack of access or opportunity, but a lack of will and discipline.
MMM: So you think then, nothing in education, education is perfect?
Shadi: Education is perfect, yes.
150 MMM: Do you think that Jordanians and Palestinian refugees they have the same education?
Shadi: Well, I…no, I’m not saying that Jordanians and Palestinians or refugees have the same education, but I think, I think they have the same chance to educate. They have the same chance, meaning, the Jordanian that has 90 goes into engineering a Palestinian that has a 90 can go into the same. It’s not like because he is a refugee he can’t study engineering. I told you last time that the most percent of the numbers present for us in engineering, in mechanical engineering. (Shadi, personal communication, August 9, 2006)
The statement above speaks to the idea that failure and success are personal choices,
not institutional responsibilities. As the conversation continues, Shadi explicitly
names his resentment:
MMM: Sometimes do you resent Palestinians here?
Shadi: Of course. Sometimes yes. But of course not all Palestinians, I am talking about refugees.
MMM: You are only talking about refugees?
Shadi: Yes. Of course.
MMM: Why do you get annoyed with refugees only?
Shadi: Not all the refugees. In general, like you said when you went to the refugee camps, they say that “the government doesn’t care, we have to pay, we have to make ourselves, to go through the life” but they are not thinking about working, okay? A little bit ago we were [in traffic], somebody or a person came and he begged me to buy chewing gum, but he didn’t think for instance to go get a career? How can I tell you? (personal communication, August 9, 2006)
Much of the resentment present among Jordanians has to do with the immigration wave in recent years, coupled with an increased standard of living that makes it hard for all inhabitants of Jordan to keep afloat.
Osama provides a strikingly similar account of higher education in Jordan.
While Osama was ready to accept the mistreatment of Palestinian refugees in the
151 greater context, he hesitates to do so when it comes to academic access. When asked
if education in Jordan was the same for Palestinian refugees and Jordanians, he
responds, “yeah” and when asked once again if educational access is the same, once
again his response is “yeah” (Osama, personal communication, August 11, 2006).
Ibrahim too gives a similar analysis of equality in education in Jordan. Once
again, the argument used is so long as Jordanian inequities exist, the Palestinian refugee inequities and woes will have to wait.
MMM: Do you think education is different for Palestinians and Jordanians?
Ibrahim: You mean the level of education or the chances?
MMM: No, more like um, when I went to the camps I heard some people talk about how some Palestinians will get 92 on tawjihi, the refugees or they wont make it to university, or they have a hard time finding a job after university and there’s a lot of wasta in the university and that they don’t get the privileges, so I don’t know if you’re thoughts are the same or different. Do you think education for all of them and Jordanians are the same or no?
Ibrahim: You know, uh, you could say lots of Jordanians don’t get the chance. It’s not only them. Uh, you know what we need um, just to out all the camps in university and not the Jordanians. They have equal chances. Because the camps are big numbers, you know. Really big numbers and you really need to protect the Jordanians. They are now sometimes really the minority they call it you know, and uh and I know lots of Jordanians they got harder grades, and they never really got where they wanted. (Ibrahim, personal communication, August 11, 2006)
Interestingly enough, Ibrahim explicitly makes the connection between the inner
academic as a microcosm of the society at large: “the problem is not in the university
as much as the problem in the country” (Ibrahim, personal communication, August
11, 2006). Although Ibrahim is speaking to Jordan’s overpopulation as the main
cause of continued exclusion and lack of opportunity, he makes the link between
152 culture of academe and culture at large (in the critical ethnography sense). Moreover, there is validity behind Ibrahim’s assertion: Jordan is bursting at the seams, and at times can not withstand the social, political, and economic implications of the immigrant wave. All the while, native inhabitants who were already on the social, academic, and economic periphery fall even further behind. Higher education for the
Jordanian participants reinforced negative perceptions of Palestinians.
153 Palestinian Perceptions of the Sociopolitical Context: Ethnic Ghettoization of the Mukhayamat?
Before delving into Palestinian refugee perceptions of the sociopolitical climate, it is important to explore Palestinian refugee camps in Jordan; as per my observations, the camps could be considered ethnically ghettoized societies on the periphery of Jordanian society.
When driving to Baqa’a you notice much more of an urban feel. It is not far out of Amman, and rather than resembling a village that never entered the early 1900, here you get the feeling that you are in a ghetto. In other words, it looked and felt a little more familiar to me. Baqa’a holds in it 120,000 people and unlike Madaba, it is recognized by the United Nations. At first site it is more typical. Driving through the ‘downtown’ of this city-within-a-city, there are many more shops and stores. The first thought that enters my mind is that it indicates more job opportunities for the residents of this camp. In a way, these images look like something else too: I remember seeing certain images like this in the wake of the Katrina hurricanes... The deeper inside you go into the camp the more poverty you see and soon that familiarity begins to fade and even more desperation hits you. (Field notes, August 1, 2006)
Refugees pose no economic, social, or political advantage and the assumption that
they are the source of problems is false. The greater society at large needs to
critically question why some reactionary acts are taken in the camps; rather incorrect
inferences are made about refugees with a “refugees are troublemakers simply
because being refugees and Palestinian predisposes them to social disorder”
mentality. In other words, a refugee simply because he or she is a refugee, is not to
be trusted.
Critical analysis about the status of Palestinian refugees, the role of the
Monarchy, and the greater society was absent not just among the participants of the
study; instead I found rhetoric that perpetuated the ethnically ghetto-like existence of
154 Palestinian refugees. In other words what needs to take place is a shift in the focus
from refugees as the problem (a hegemonic lens) to a national dialogue (transnational
lens). By ethnic ghettoization, I mean to suggest refugee camps as pockets of refugee
existence devoid of Jordanian presence; a separation from the majority, which creates
tensions and sometimes hostility.
The argument of ethnic ghettoization holds some validity because of ghettos as systematic areas of more or less ethnic division similar to the refugee camps wherein mainly Palestinian refugees reside. The refugee existence might have some similarities in terms of isolation, exclusion, and hostility, but ultimately the ethnically ghettoized environment garners images of Jews in European cities or present day cities in the United States. Making an assertion of the camps as ethnically ghetto would then colonize this study by viewing the camps through a Western lens.
The only word to really describe the refugee camps is, therefore, not ethnically ghetto, but al mukhayamat; the Arabic word is a derivative of khyam, which literally translated means “tents”. Mukhayam is the singular of mukhayamat.
From this point on, the refugee camp or camps are referred to as al mukhayamat
(plural: the camps), or mukhayam (singular: camp), or ‘refugee camps’ interchangeably. In addition, al-laji’een, the Arabic word for refugee is used; al-
laji’een and refugees are used interchangeably throughout the rest of this study as
well. In order to elicit the indigenous views of both Jordanian and Palestinian
perceptions of the camps and refugees, the words al mukhayamat and al-laji’een
decolonize the study, which adheres to the philosophy and intention of the study,
while simultaneously paralleling Handala as the indigenous framework of the study.
155 Population Density
The youth will not get tired Their goal is your independence Or they die We will drink from death But we will not be slaves to our enemies We do not want An eternal humiliation Nor a miserable life We do not want But we will return Our great glory My homeland My homeland
(Tukan, Ibrahim, My homeland)
The population density in the camps further exacerbates the living conditions
of al-laji’een. While conducting fieldwork in mukhayam Baqa’a (the most densely
populated camp in Jordan), the resources are scarce because there are simply not
enough of them to address such a large population. I met with one of the unofficial
leaders of Baqa’a. When we were passing out food to the orphans and widows of the
camp, we were told he would provide invaluable insight. As a communist and a former prisoner for working with the opposition during Black September, he harbored
resentment towards Jordan.
He said that before he liberates Palestinians from Israel as an enemy he will liberate them from Jordan because they are the real enemy…“If you ask me, I will go to the border, and while I am there, I will make my country [Palestine] independent from our neighbor [Jordan] before our enemies [Israel].” (August 1, 2006)
He gives me permission to ask him anything I want, and says he will answer honestly
because he does not fear anyone. When I ask him to address the major issues in the
camp, he lists them one by one.
156 With his thumb up in the air, he tells me the first problem is health. I thought health would not be a problem because unlike Madaba, Baqa’a is recognized by the United Nations. He tells me that many women die giving birth on their way to their hospital because it is so far away and they don’t have cars. They do not have enough hospitals. He continues to tell me that a doctor sees about 400 patients a day, and sometimes before even examining someone he will just hand over a prescription for what the patient might have…Transportation, he continues. Transportation is an issue because for a student of any university to make it on time for an 8am class, she must leave the house at a quarter to six. Five minutes late doesn’t cut it, because they do not have enough busses leaving the camp. [OC: I notice that many people go into the city, but hardly anyone form the city goes into the camp.] Sanitation. He tells me to come at 10pm to see the trash from the day that has piled up…He then interrupts himself and tells me that he also wants me to come to a wedding. You will not hear traditional wedding songs, he explains, but traditional Palestinian national songs. There is no place for kids to play and so they are always on the streets playing amidst the garbage. Security. This he explains is one of the biggest problems that he sees. The camp doesn’t have proper security for 120,000 people whatsoever. He explains that the King will donate more security to the camp, but rather than secure the camp, security goes on the outskirts. [OC: It is almost as though the security is to protect people from the outside from people within the camp. Talk, about making the strange familiar—it reminds me of not enough, let alone sufficient security in EPA or Oakland, but cops on every corner in Hillsborough.] Education. The most important thing for our kids, he says, is education because they have nothing else at all…To get to university they need books which cost money, sometimes uniforms, bus fair, tuition, and families make on average 150 JDs for families of sometimes up to ten and even more. They pay 30 JDs for rent, then water, electricity and utility, food, etc etc etc. The government will come out and perform a PR stunt saying that they are opening all of these seats, which is true, but not without money. (Field Notes, August 1, 2006)
Because of the dense population, insufficient funding and allocation of funds, the problems at Baqa’a are overwhelming.
One cannot discuss the environment in al mukhayamat without discussing the sheer population of youth. This study is significant both in terms of scholarly research, but particularly significant for sociopolitical reasons. The participants of
157 this study along with the youth in Jordan are the immediate future for Jordan,
Palestine, and for the world; in fact, even visually seeing a family of 13 or 14
impresses upon my psyche just how numerically vital this generation is. In
discussing and sometimes arguing with Jordanians about the Palestinian refugee
reality, I felt I always posed critical questions and thought- provoking comments.
However, the one time I found myself without a response was when the question of
population density in the camps arose. It is not uncommon to see families of ten or
more in al mukhayamat, and many Jordanians found this completely hypocritical;
how can the mukhayam reality (poverty) hold any merit when al-laji’een keep
reproducing? Palestinian refugee reproduction essentially becomes the perpetuation
of their own poverty; Jordanians perceive al-laji’een are to blame for recreating their
own destitution vis-à-vis reproducing, thereby becoming an economic burden for
Jordanians.
This economic burden on Jordanians lay the foundation for inter-societal
tensions. The Jordanian mentality (akin to the White Man’s Burden) creates this sacrifice mentality and essentially competing victimhoods between Jordanians and
Palestinian laji’een. I decided to take my questions to Mr. Abu Ahmad; afraid to ask
him for fear of offending him, I posed my question carefully. I was surprised to find
he was not offended in the least because reproduction was a source of pride, even
survival.
As we walk I ask [Mr. Abu Ahmad] about the high number of births in the camp. He tells me they need more Palestinians than Israelis. He tells me many of them are dying in Israel and they need to keep the population alive. They need more soldiers. He also tells me that in the Qur’an it is encouraged. I asked him what happens if a woman can not
158 have children. He says that she is divorced and the man remarries. (Field notes, July 31, 2006)
In my own bias, reproduction posed what I assumed was a problem: without proper
sanitation and health clinics in al mukhayamat, was having children the “right” thing
to do? I made the argument that perhaps with proper sex education this would not be
the case. (Upon discussing these observations with two USF colleagues and peers,
they immediately identified my observation as ethnocentric and deficit based. The
assumption that sex education would make this “problem” go away meant I viewed
their reproduction as wrong, thereby exposing my own ethnocentrism).
It is from this awareness I realized refugee notions of procreation were linked to a much greater transnational need for survival. In other words, this was not a case of more sex education campaigns or birth control awareness. Rather it goes back to
Mr. Abu Ahmad’s idea of soldiers and the power in numbers. This obligation as
dutiful refugees maintains and keeps alive the Palestinian identity by birthing new
generations; in essence a new birth was the birth of hope and continued resistance.
The birth of a new legacy, a new army, with a new generation of warriors and agents
of change for Palestinians, meant hope. En masse a revolution was stirring.
Palestinian Participants
Ultimately the three participants were JR, Khaled, and Nour. JR lives in
mukhayam Baqa’a. Her parents are illiterate and had no formal schooling. She
attended Al Hussein Bin Talal University, and currently works as a teacher in a
private center. To help pay for her education JR took on different jobs, such as
picking vegetables in green houses in the sweltering heat and wearing her hijab.
159 Since her graduation, JR works day and night to help save money for her brother’s
college tuition.
Nour is a graduate from Mu’ta University and lives in mukhayam Madaba where I spent most of my time. Of all the participants I engaged with, she was the most interested in the subject matter. Oftentimes, she referred to me as the only hope, the sole solution to Jordanian and Palestinian tensions. She is one of 13 children, and her illiterate mother is a widow. When we were engaging in our interviews Nour’s sister was crying to her uncle, begging his permission to attend university. She was told they could not send her to school because they could not afford her application fee, let alone tuition. Her sobs could be heard in the next room while Nour and I were speaking. Nour’s profile is different than most Palestinian refugees because she harbored no resentment of Jordanians. On the contrary, she was open to meaningful relationships with her Jordanian counterparts.
Khaled is a 23 year old graduate of Zeituneh University. He majored in
Computer Programming and was working in a computer lab in mukhayam Madaba.
He is seeking to find ways to continue his education in the United States or England.
His biggest fear is the possibility of having to sell his parents’ home to be able to pay for continuing his education, a sacrifice he is not sure he is willing to make. Khaled has access to a computer lab, so every now and then he emails me. He likes to email me because it is a good opportunity for him to practice his English. During our first encounter Khaled said he was hopeless about peaceful coexistence, and upon completing our second interview he said just being able to speak freely with me about his thoughts was a revival of hope.
160 Deconstructing Handala
The generated themes of al-laji’een in al mukhayamat can be found in
Handala. Once again, Handala (meaning bitterness) stands with his hands behind his back (American rejection and refugee pride), barefooted (poverty), using his hair as a
weapon (education). The themes which emerged during my time in Jordan are
encapsulated in this image of a refugee who is poor, but smells of amber; globally
forgotten and humiliated, yet prideful and defiant. As I sit here envisioning my time
with al-laji’een, I visualize Handala there next to us. In many ways he has come to
life for me and I adopted him as my son; he is the manifestation of my newly reborn
global consciousness. I adopted him from al-laji’een and hold him in my soul where
he resides, all the while I long to see his face.
Four mukhayamat were explored: Madaba, Baqa’a, Hiteen, and Hussein.
Each mukhayam possessed its own qualities. Most of my time was spent in
mukhayam Madaba with my ally Mr. Abu-Ahmad and four out of five (later two)
interviewed participants resided in mukhayam Madaba. My connection to mukhayam
Madaba was and is a very strong one. On the eve of my first visit to mukhayam
Madaba I was filled with nerves and anticipation.
Tomorrow, I am going to meet with Mr. Abu-Ahmad at Madaba refugee camp. Moussa the driver directed me to Mr. Abu-Ahmad, and I was told he would help me. He is the unofficial man in charge of the camp, and this is a huge relief. People will trust him and if he tells them it is safe to talk to me, maybe that will garner trust. We will see. I am a little worried about my research because there is so much protocol. I am also worried about the tape recording. I am worried
161 about so many things related to the study, but I keep telling myself to be patient and take my time. Tomorrow we will make the trek to Madaba, a city just outside of Amman. I will meet with both Moussa and Mr. Abu-Ahmad and they will introduce me to refugee camp life, environment, and most important—participants willing to speak with me. I know being here during a war is intense, and people will be very angry and while I understand this is on the fore of everyone’s mind, I hope it doesn’t deviate from Jordanian-Palestinian refugee coexistence. (Field Notes, July, 25, 2006)
In their hearts, Palestinian laji’een have transnational (sometimes dueling)
identities; they live mono-national lives both professionally and academically, but
socially, Palestinian refugees lead clearly transnational lives; al mukhayamat are
overwhelmingly Palestinian, but they exist within a larger Jordanian context. The
Monarchy does not reinforce or encourage transnationalism (in fact it disseminates a
Jordanian national identity) in al mukhayamat, and evidence is present in the fear
many laji’een possess. JR, a graduate from Al Hussein Bin Talal University and
Mathematics major, addresses the sensitivity of Jordanian-Palestinian relations.
JR: Of course it [the subject of Jordanian-Palestinian relations] is sensitive. Yes, it is sensitive and I will tell you why. First of all this Jordanian-Palestinian thing is sensitive because of fear. I am telling you, fear of the intelligence service and the fear of having a point against you. Second, there are some people, Jordanians and Palestinians who are very precious to you and you don’t want to hurt anyone around you. So this Jordanian-Palestinian statement brings about a multitude of problems. Therefore, I keep myself a lot from it. (JR, personal communication, August 10, 2006)
Since (and even before) the terrorist attacks in Jordan, mukhabarat (or secret
police) comingle with the society at large in Jordan. The way this works is complex;
mukhabarat investigate ‘suspicious activities,’ activities which are very broadly defined. The flaws inherent in the presence of mukhabarat are twofold; the
162 possibility of abuse of power (including police brutality), and the paranoia they instill in the general public (particularly, but not excluding, non-Jordanians).
Mukhabarat and the fear they instill here are immense. Everyone knows they exist, but no one knows who they are, and they could be anywhere at any time. People will undoubtedly mistrust me at first, and I am okay with this—that is why I want to take my time, and honor the process of research. (Field Notes, July 25, 2006)
On several occasions, I was told mukhabarat participate in protests, attend university
classes, are wedding guests, and even live in al mukhayamat; they are everywhere.
Not surprisingly, there are no statistics to confirm or deny what many civilians living
in Jordan believe to be true; one in four people are mukhabarat. The underlying
purpose of the mukhabarat is intended to provide a sense of confidence in the system.
The sensitivity of this study cannot be overestimated. It is not an exaggeration by any means for me to suggest the participants of this study risked a great deal in speaking to me.
The presence of mukhabarat has arguably created a false sense of security for
the people in Jordan. In fact, I found myself far more afraid of mukhabarat than the
Palestinian refugees I was constantly told to fear. Other Jordanians, however, did not
share my concern. In fact, the overall idea is you only fear mukhabarat if you have somehow asked for it. However Shadi (Jordanian participant) illustrates the level of mukhabarat control in his discussion about Jordanian privilege.
Shadi: Okay, I don’t bother myself to watch the politics or anything, just put on NBC 2, NBC 3, ONE TV, let’s say uh, Showtime, that’s all. Watching videos. When they hear a sound whispering about politics or something like that, they will shut them [Palestinians] up.
MMM: Who is “they”?
Shadi: Uh, meaning, let’s say, uh politicians.
163 MMM: Mukhabarat.
Shadi: Of course mukhabarat. (Personal communication, August 6,
2006)
Even uttering the word mukhabarat is risky to mention. Notice Shadi searching for another word before settling with “politicians”. In pressing Nour further about why she does not discuss Palestinian-Jordanian coexistence at school, she restates, “I told you, I can’t discuss these at university; I am scared to.” (Personal communication,
July 26, 2006)
In one of my observations, I notice I have not seen one Palestinian flag in any of the camps. I have only noticed one inside a house in a corner.
We begin walking and our first stop is the all boys’ school. No one is there because it is summertime, but it was interesting nonetheless. Education in this particular camp is very high—almost 100% [enrollment] according to AH. We stop in the middle of the courtyard and read the sayings on the wall. The white school with light blue doors signifies UN presence. Sitting in the empty courtyard I try to envision the boys playing in the schoolyard. I try to envision them getting in trouble by their teachers, or doing homework. I try to envision them sitting under the mission statement wondering whether or not they are internalizing these messages of hope. I also see little boys in a white school with light blue doors, and two flags (not their own) waving up above [emphasis added]. I try to envision the bully being lectured about his actions. In other words, I try to find the noise in the silence I am in. (Field notes, July 30, 2006)
Nour, a graduate of Mu’ta University with an English Literature background. She is unemployed; a reality for many refugees who go to university and get their higher education degree, only to face unemployment. In asking Nour about my observations, fear emanates once again:
164 MMM: Let me tell you, I haven’t seen any Palestinian flag raised in any refugee camp that I visited.
Nour: Let me tell you, those people feel that this land is not theirs. They came here as refugees, there is fear among them in a way that no Palestinian dares to raise the Palestinian flag on his house, or to display it anywhere.
MMM: They are afraid to this degree? What would happen if you raised the flag?
Nour: There would be a problem if a Jordanian saw it. By doing so, they create a problem. So they avoid that in order not to have problems. They are fearful. (Personal communication, July 30, 2006)
On many occasions we heard parents tell stories of mukhabarat knocking on doors in the middle of the night and taking their sons away. Parents were not allowed to investigate or ask the whereabouts of their sons, and when they returned bruised and beaten days later, they never spoke of the incident (personal communication, July 30,
2006). This was not unusual. My fundamental impression al mukhabarat aggravate the sociopolitical climate in Jordan was confirmed when Ibrahim (Jordanian participant) revealed key evidence linking mukhabarat with perpetuating social tensions:
Ibrahim: Yes, I love Jordan, and uh, I believe that God wants us here is to make a difference. Not to change the country, I can not change the country, but I can make a difference in the country. I am…all who met me, most of them…they say that’s “we never met someone like you” I always look at the positive side of life. Even uh, I’ve had a few interviews with the mukhabarat [secret police]. They tried to per- persuade me to have a ‘Jordanian heart’ you know, and to look at them like trying to let me seeing them as not same like us, you know.
MMM: Who is not the same?
Ibrahim: The Palestinians. This is very confidential to say, uh, it’ just, that’s their job.
MMM: Yes.
165
Ibrahim: But I never cared, even I answered one of them, I said: “I can’t do that” most of my friends, most of them, they are Palestinians. Uh, It’s like he was telling me to leave them. (personal communication, August 6, 2006)
Ibrahim’s attempt to be as vague as possible did not hide his reference to mukhabarat essentially recruiting him to “have a Jordanian heart” alludes to the power and influence of the secret police. Moreover if government officials were perpetuating this mindset, where were the orders coming from, and why?
Ibrahim’s refusal to work with and alongside mukhabarat by having a
“Jordanian heart” raises important questions in me regarding why he did not comply.
I wanted to believe he was against the unjust nature of the request, and while I think on some level this is the case, the overriding theme is arguably the principle of
Jordanians as non-meddler. In fact, as we deconstruct different layers of coexistence,
Ibrahim reveals his thoughts about Palestinians:
MMM: You said it also you said something like the Palestinians, they are different from Jordanians? How do you think the two are different from each other? What do you think the difference is?
Ibrahim: Um. Well, uh it’s a good question. I can’t tell how, but we feel it. We feel a Palestinian friend is different, he is close friend, but you can, you could, you could sense like more sincerity, or more faithfulness in the Jordanians. Like in time of need, maybe you find the Jordanian is closer to you than the Palestinian.
MMM: Really?
Ibrahim: I think so yes. I never needed a friend, uh, I mean, I never experienced that, but you can feel like the Jordanian is like uh, is more available to you…You know, “I am more available if you need me!” Or you say if the Palestinian circumstance changes, he will forget you…I think that’s different from a Jordanian. He keeps being a friend forever. (Ibrahim, personal communication, August 6, 2006)
166 It is Ibrahim’s statements and remarks of Palestinians as untrustworthy and unreliable
which lead me to make the assumption he did not comply with mukhabarat because of his altruistic reasons, but more likely because of fear and not wanting to get involved.
His Arms Behind His Back: American Rejection
It was common to find pictures of Che Guevara throughout refugee camps, on
cars, t-shirts, hanging in stores, and so on. Che Guevara represented revolution and
the struggle of oppression, and yet when critically examining the seemingly strange
presence of Che Guevara in the Middle East, one notices the Western lens; why Che
Guevara and not countless other revolutionaries? In other words, Che Guevara, an
Argentinean-born Marxist revolutionary, represented the rebellion and declared
socio-economic inequities could only be resolved through zealous revolution. The
significance of Che Guevara is this: Cuba had a successful socialist revolution which
still challenges the United States
Che Guevara’s revolutionary identity as a martyr and iconoclastic gadfly
declares the United States so feeble it still concerns itself with the “miniscule” Cuba.
Therefore, the Western analysis is critical because Palestinian laji’een have
contextualized this revolutionary; the plastering of Che Guevara trumps any
preoccupation with Jordanian national identity. Che Guevara was martyred for the
cause, one that challenged the United States the same way the Palestinian revolution
challenges the United States’ geo-strategic interests in the Middle East. His image is a testament to Palestinian transnational agency.
167 Al-laji’een could not address the question regarding the role of the United
States in Jordan without examining the role of the United States in the greater Middle
East, furthering the concept of a heightened transnational and global consciousness.
JR: The problem lies not in the Jordanian-Palestinian, but in the Palestinian problem. When it is solved, there will be no refugee problem left. When we return back to Palestine, nobody will depend on anyone. This is a natural thing. In fact, whenever anyone is a refugee in any country; don’t you feel the same as we do in America? I am sure 100/100 that you suffer even more than we do. When somebody is far from their homeland, they suffer, like being in America. Imagine this, the Congress issued 2 weeks ago, a mandate calling for the rescue of animals during disasters and wars. Imagine that while people in Iraq, Lebanon, and Palestine are killed with cold blood—people and children are killed with bombs [the Americans] make and send them to the Middle East. The Arab is killed without any concern. Our souls are generic. (Personal communication, August 10, 2006)
Handala’s hands behind his back encapsulate Palestinian defiance and rejection of the
long history of non-Palestinians decision making for and on behalf of Palestinians.
What JR discusses in our time together is the lack of regard for Arabs who suffer.
The role of the United States has become one synonymous with imminent calamity.
Her heightened consciousness of the United States and the issues before Congress,
along with her observation of animal rights superseding Palestinian rights create a pan-refugee mentality of the United States harboring Islamophobia and anti-Arabism.
MMM: What do you think about Jordan’s relationship with America?
JR: It is a very good relationship [sarcastic]. Jordan is America’s spoiled child. I think we are America’s followers. We can’t do anything. Whatever America tells us to do, we do it. We do not have a personality.
MMM: Is this something good or bad?
168
JR: No, it is undoubtedly not good. To be a follower is not good. We want our independence as a people. Even as Arab people we need our own personality, to be followers it’s not good.
MMM: I spoke to Jordanians who say it is to be with America otherwise there will be too many problems, and we would be in a war, and all around us there is war. So, they say it is necessary to stand with America, they say.
JR: No. It is not necessary. Why should I be friends with America who is our enemy? So, we shouldn’t befriend it. We could become friends with the Arab peoples and become and integrated power, not followers. America will be afraid of us. Why should we be followers? If I become a follower of somebody, my personality will diminish. As long as I am a state that has all personality ingredients, then why would I become a US-follower? (JR, personal communication, August 10, 2006)
For JR as well as many other Palestinian laji’een, identity has so much to do with
United States’ involvement in the Middle East. In many ways, the conflict with
Palestinians lies in Palestinian refusal to surrender and submit. If they relinquished ties to Palestine, the conflict would no longer exist. The truth of the United States as
Israel’s major advocate in the occupation of Palestine and neo-Israeli fascism is not lost on any Palestinian or Arab for that matter. Khaled, a 23 year old refugee, living in mukhayam Madaba majored in Computer Programming. Khaled discusses United
States-Jordanian relations:
MMM: What do you think about Jordan’s relationship with America?
Khaled: [Pause] The relationship with America, the relationship with America is a relationship frankly, that uh, that uh, what can I say?
MMM: You can say whatever you want, you can relax.
Khaled: No, no, it’s not that. I just don’t know how to say it. Of course it is a strong relationship. But it is a relationship stronger than it has to be. Meaning that if something happens, we might stand next to them, as a government as a country it is going to stand next to them.
169 But as people they reject this. The people reject this talk. They reject this strong relationship, meaning that America they are the ones who entered Iraq and this is rejected by all the people. Notice that the government as a government gave an opportunity to enter, uh, uh, let’s say, the American army they train themselves on Jordanian land and they train before they enter Iraq. This talk happened. Who did this? The Jordanian government. (Khaled, personal communication, July 30, 2006)
Khaled’s observation indicates an unnecessarily strong relationship with the United
States. However, in his analysis of United States-Jordanian relations he also addresses the Jordanian Monarchy’s policies during the United States-Iraq war. He continues:
MMM: Does this bother you?
Khaled: Yes, of course. Of course, why? Because I reject something, why should I be forced? The Iraqi people are the same as us. Why should we, Iraq used to give us a lot of petrol to Jordan. Why was the petrol here cheaper? Because Iraq used to provide for Jordan. It used to provide to Jordan. Why when Saddam Hussein used to say, give me a chance, oh Jordan, let me get into Israel through you? Why did we reject? Right? (Khaled, personal communication, July 30, 2006)
What Khaled speaks to is a seemingly hypocritical Jordanian relation with both the
United States and Iraq. Whereas at one time, Jordan had decent relations with Iraq and Iraq provided petrol to Jordan, it is Khaled’s perception Jordan has turned its back on Iraq. In a discussion about Jordan and the Palestinian conflict, Khaled asserts once again Jordan’s apparently unrelenting support not only for the United States, but
Israel as well.
MMM: …Uh, what do you think of Jordan’s involvement with the Palestinian conflict?
Khaled: They used to help. They used help in the Palestinian conflict a lot. They used to help and they stood with the Palestinian conflict. However, not in a way that would not result in, meaning they help the Palestinian conflict in a way that doesn’t harm the Israeli conflict.
170 Let’s say, why? Because look at history, Jordan stood by Palestinians in an unbelievable way. However, if there is anything that might hurt Israel, then no. [Inaudible]. They proceeded with the peace agreement. The problem returned to who? To Palestine itself. The needy, and those that were killed. Israel kills and wounds, and etc. and mothers. And above all that they force them to sign the peace agreement, but there is no real peace…Let me repeat my thought once again. Meaning that Jordan now stands with the Palestinian people in a way that doesn’t harm Israel. Okay? It doesn’t hurt Israel. (Khaled, personal communication, July 30, 2006)
It appears wherein Jordan is unrelentingly supportive of Israel and the United States under the pretext of securing Jordan, it is simultaneously fickle in supporting both
Palestine and Iraq. Interestingly, whereas the Monarchy is covert in its support of the
United States, its policies and actions are overtly aligned with the United States.
Evidence of this is present dating back to the Israel-Jordanian peace treaty all the way to King Abdullah II’s meetings with President Bush. However, Jordan is overtly supportive of Palestine, but its policies and praxis are not nearly as compelling.
Evidence linking Jordan’s inconsistent support of Palestine is shown in signing the peace treaty with Israel in 1994. Some might argue when Jordan signed the peace treaty in Israel it simultaneously signed a war treaty with Palestine, resulting in Black
September.
What Black September ultimately did was plant the seed of Palestinian
distrust. Whereas Jordanians and Palestinians may have once lived together in harmony, the events of Black September carried longstanding implications for years
to come thereby ingraining the notion of Palestinians as a group who could not be
trusted in Jordanian psyche. Palestinian refugees needed to be controlled and
171 monitored, and consequently a new unstable equilibrium was born (See Glenn, 2002,
Chapter Two).
JR: Our family lived the days of the September war [Black September] between the Palestinians fedayees [freedom fighters] and the Jordanian army. They have taken a huge stand against Jordanians, especially my mom and my dad. [They say] “These are Jordanians? Jordanians killed us!” And thus, our families they have still taken a stand since the war. What did this do to me? They planted racism in me. They witnessed the September war, and they witnessed when they came from Jerusalem too, and how they treated them, badly. So they planted racism in us. (JR, personal communication, August 10, 2006)
Al-laji’een still pay the price for the events of Black September, and remnants of
distrust ingrained in the Jordanian psyche create yet another unstable equilibrium—
that of Palestinian refugee resentment.
Neo-apartheid and colonization have created anti-American and anti-Israeli
sentiments, but simultaneously reaffirm many Arab stereotypes. Support of this
observation was everywhere and I heard of at least two instances of parents naming
their newborns, “Jihad.” Many Arabs, especially those living in poverty, believe and maybe rightfully so, a jihad is underway. Jihad, as defined in Chapter Two, means the inner and outer struggles a person faces throughout their lives. Inner jihad, the more important of the two is analogous with a person’s conscience and how they will live a pure life. Outer jihad is the fight against oppression. What may have started out a terrorist attack (mislabeled “jihad” by Osama bin Laden) has turned into jihad.
JR: We ask from all leaders that they open the doors of jihad. Everyone in the refugee camp, we will all go, because we have nothing to fear. There is no money, not our chairs [in government] to fear losing. We are unemployed and instead of sit, why? Open the doors of jihad! Let us all go and support Hezbollah!
MMM: Would you go personally?
172 JR: I will go. I have a nursing degree. Maybe I can help with nursing, if there wasn’t, there are those who are wounded, those who are urbans. Right or wrong? Maybe we can go to help. Yes. Why not? Fayda, the Islamic nurse, where did she go? Wasn’t she the first nurse in Islam? Her jihad was nursing. I think, even if I didn’t have nursing, maybe we can take courses in medicine, and help the ill there. Why won’t they open the doors to jihad? We are ready. And our God allows it and it’s holy. Right or wrong? There is nothing for us to fear. We believe that in the end death is inevitable. There is no escaping it. At then end, aren’t we all going to die, why don’t we die with pride? And move away from humiliation. Why don’t we die with dignity and honor while fighting for God’s sake? (JR, personal communication, August 10, 2006)
When JR calls to “open the doors for jihad”, she means to ask, why are they closed?
On several occasions she wonders why the Jordanian government has not allowed al- laji’een to go and fight, but rather, live amidst their poverty. Hezbollah was giving
Palestinians the chance to fight and the chance for victory. Hezbollah had the guts to do what Middle Eastern countries did not; it challenged Israel and won.
JR: I am saying that this is an opportunity now to rethink our calculations as Arabs. What I meant by that is look at Hezbollah now, it showed that America is a big lie. We made it so huge, we support its might. And we are afraid of her, but why? We have made it bigger than it has to be. Israel said it will destroy Hezbollah in a week or so, and it has been a month since the beginning of the war, and they couldn’t do a thing. So, if we, the Arabs, stand together like Syria or Egypt with 100 million people for example, if we all stood together, we would destroy Israel. Why are we so afraid? Why are we afraid? Always afraid. I don’t understand. (personal communication, August 10, 2006)
Once again JR’s frustration is not only with the United States, but Arab countries and their inability to stand united. JR’s perception is that if pan-Arabism had succeeded, the United States would never have been able to strengthen Israel. Further, because
Pan-Arabism failed, Israel and the United States succeeded. Inherent in both the aforementioned arguments is Arab inability to unite.
173 In addressing questions about Jordan and its relations with Palestine and the
United States, Nour contends the King and the country are doing what they can.
MMM: What do you think of Jordan’s relationship with America?
Nour: I think it’s very good, better than any country’s relationship with America.
MMM: Do you think this benefits Jordan, or no?
Nour: Yes, of course. I feel that our King is a King, truly who is successful with the way he deals with other countries. I like that his relationship with America is very good.
MMM: You don’t think that they are close in a way that is not good?
Nour: No, on the contrary. No, no. (Nour, personal communication, July 26, 2006)
Nour’s account of Jordanian-American relations as a good undertaking is not the
norm in al mukhayamat. In her testimonies regarding Jordanians, Nour had nothing
but praise for Jordanians. She insists both are the same; both have Arab blood and
possess Arab identities. Whereas pan-Arabism failed, for Nour this is not the case.
MMM: Um, what are your attitudes towards Jordanians? How are your relations with them?
Nour: In terms of myself, I swear, I like them. Really, and I sense that they are, like they say, what would have happened without them? They are the ones welcomed us, and they are the ones who helped us, and they are the ones who stood beside us, and they are the ones who gave us land, and we became just like Jordanians in terms of rights. And in, uh, there is no difference whatsoever between us. But there is, you feel, [lowers her voice] with the older parents, and the older generations, they are the ones who have problems, not us. (Nour, personal communication, July 26, 2006)
Nour is absolutely accurate in her statement about generations before and again, this
reality stems from the events of Black September. However, for Nour this was not
the case.
174 Nour: What can I tell you, I don’t feel that, what can I tell you um, um, that’s it, I was born here, lived here, and was brought up here, meaning I will stay here. I don’t feel that I have a land, anyway. For me, I mean it’s normal, it doesn’t matter, it’s normal, it’s normal. Because we aren’t going to go back, and we left it a long time ago, and our Prime Minister died, and it’s normal. I feel that we are here, that’s it. And our King is King Abdullah, and Jordan is our land. That’s it. And our citizenship is Jordanian, that’s it. That’s it. (Nour, personal communication, July 30, 2006)
In Handala’s arms, we see Palestinian identity as non-negotiable. Among
non-refugee Palestinians, it is not the same, and in fact many have assimilated and
pay no attention to al-laji’een living in Jordan. This self effacing tendency among
non-refugee Palestinians is a strategy many employ to fit in and succeed in the
mainstream society. It is for all intents and purposes, very effective. For Palestinians in the mainstream society, one would assume hybridization is present; the social intermix of Palestinian and Jordanian identities. I am sure this is true for many non- refugee Palestinians, but not among any I witnessed. Among the wealthy Palestinians observed, and the Palestinians many Jordanians referred to in order contest my observations, many considered themselves Jordanians. For al-laji’een it is these
Palestinians who have denigrated the Palestinian cause and abandoned their own
people.
MMM: let me ask you, do you get mad when these immigrants with millions and millions do not help you?
JR: Yes. Yes of course I am going to get mad, because I am a Palestinian, just like you. You were lucky and you became rich. My God didn’t give me this chance, and we are supposed to look to each other, and to help each other. But here everyone is thinking of only his family, not others. (personal communication, August 10, 2006)
175 Sometimes, I can imagine Handala with his arms crossed, rejecting those who have
abandoned the Palestinian struggle (including but not limited to both Jordanians and
Palestinians) in attempts to gain access in the mainstream, dominant culture.
Among al-laji’een, many find themselves living in competing systems;
poverty/wealth, laji’een/non-laji’een, and non-Jordanian/Jordanian. Again, many I
am sure have found ways to live dual realities wherein both refugee life and
mainstream life live in complete harmony, but per observations, this was not the case.
These competing systems complicated the sociopolitical climate in which al-laji’een rejected the United States’ presence whilst mainstream society embraced it. The lack of critical and national consciousness in Jordanians is arguably a result of privilege.
For al-laji’een, there existed a heightened critical and national awareness of issues such as the living conditions of Palestinians living outside of Jordan, racism in the
United States, and even the laws Congress passes. Although many people kept saying: an issue between Palestinians and Jordanians does not exist, it does indeed and on all levels—personally, socio-politically, academically, and institutionally.
Nour: Frankly, all the problems here—there are many problems because of this topic. Let me tell you something. A problem occurred in the university from Al-Majali family from Karak [southern Jordan], a girl from Al-Majali Jordanian and a Palestinian young man. The problem was not for her going out with a young man, rather, because he is a Palestinian and that’s it.
MMM: Ah. I see.
Nour: It was shown on TV, Muhammad il Wakeel showed it, and on video, and on the phones. Imagine that. That day, the relatives of the girl beat the guy severely and left him on the verge of death, but God’s mercy saved his life. It was a big problem that took place at Mu’tah University. Yes, it was a problem. Oh yes, things like this reach this level. Oh yeah. (personal communication, July 30, 2006)
176 The assertion made by many to suggest harmonious commingling was not the case
and I believe many were mistaking the fact that both groups coexist meant they exist
in harmony. A Palestinian presence, even a wealthy Palestinian presence, does not in
and of itself denote harmonious coexistence.
Handala’s Bare Footedness: Refugee Pride
My own ethnocentrism led me to think of the word “refugee” as one which warranted pity. I expected to find al-laji’een hating their existence in al mukhayamat,
fighting a losing battle with poverty. What I witnessed instead was refugee pride and dignity. For many of al-laji’een being a refugee meant connection to their land.
Their existence as laji’een meant Palestine existed.
In my reflections about my interviews I realize that all of my participants were proud to be refugees; truly proud. I am not just talking about the graduates, but also about Mr. Abu Ahmad and his family and the many little children I saw and spoke to. I am sure they wish living conditions were different, but to them being a refugee is proof of something, but I am not sure what. I think it is living and breathing evidence of Israeli occupation. I also think that it is living breathing evidence of oppression, but I think the most important thing it symbolizes is survival of both the occupation and worldwide oppression. (Field notes, July 27, 2006)
The word laji’een was so profound and held so much value, and they viewed being
refugees with pride. The word al-laji’een meant they had a homeland which they
were forced to leave, and this place was Palestine. The connection to Palestine can
not be underestimated, insofar as refugeeness meant the existence of Palestine; the
survival of the Palestinian struggle resulted in the physical presence of generations of
laji’een. In discussion with JR, I ask her perceptions of refugeeness, and her own
generated themes become apparent.
177 JR: Of course we are mad. We are mad first and most with our families. Why did they leave Palestine? Why didn’t they endure hardships there? It’s better than living in exile. At least you stayed there and even if you are killed, you would die with honor. It is better than coming here and being under the insult and oppression by anybody. They say, “a word will scar even though you live in the midst” even though you are living, what is this life, really? However, there it is different; one of our relatives currently lives there in the West Bank. They live with dignity. People there are better than us, even though they live with the Jews. If I stayed there with the Jews and was killed, that means that I’ll become a martyr with dignity. At least there, they are our enemy. Right or wrong? [MMM: right]. Not Arabs. An Arab insults me while they are the same as I am. Muslims are far from you. I am talking about Arabs, Arabs just like me, yes or no? I do not think they are practicing Muslims. Otherwise they wouldn’t treat us like that.
MMM: If there was the right of refugees to return to Palestine, if there was peace, would you return?
JR: Yes, of course. I will return. There is nothing like one’s country. Whatever your job is, you still have your country, your land, even if you had to become a farmer that is still better than my college degree, better than my college degree. (personal communication, August 10, 2006)
JR’s generated themes parallel people living in mukhayamat; she considers her life one of “exile”, wherein her own Arab counterparts are the source of oppression. At least in Israel, “they are our enemy” (JR, personal communication, August 10, 2006).
Even second generation laji’een that have never seen Palestine connect so profoundly to their homeland which created a heightened critical, national, and transnational consciousness.
MMM: What does being a refugee mean to you?
Khaled: Frankly, there is no doubt that we are refugees. This is something I shouldn’t forget. This is the one thing that ties me to Palestine in reality, the fact that I am a refugee, that my name is refugee and that I live in Jordan. Do I go to jihad, do I fight, do I do anything? No I don’t. Why? It is not my choice. So, the one thing that ties me is that I am a refugee in Palestine, that I am a refugee, and
178 I am holding on to that, and that I am living in Jordan. These are the two things that tie me to Palestine. No doubt that I haven’t seen Palestine, no doubt that I miss it, no doubt that someone longs even though he hasn’t seen it. (personal communication, July 26, 2006)
Their forced migration shaped their border identities and so refugeeness was a
testament to their oppression, displacement, and occupation.
JR: We are civilized and we have sophisticated things. These things are supposed to support us. We have to be proud, I don’t know, I think that there are times when we go out of Jordan, you are ashamed that you are an Arab. Why? On the contrary, I am not ashamed that I am an Arab. Now, even now, from the point that I am from Baqa’a, you go to for instance to a high class neighborhood, like “ew”, as if Baqa’a is gross, as if it is gross. Why? Why? On the contrary, I am from Baqa’a, born and proud, and my financial position, is not that good. And I came from a self-made family, so why should I be ashamed? One the contrary, this I am very proud of it! (Personal communication, August 10, 2006)
The existence of so many refugees is proof of the continued occupation of
Palestine and the collective global denial of neo-colonial apartheid. The very significant numerical presence of al-laji’een is undeniable and al-laji’een are proud
of their refugeeness because their existence was proof.
179 Second Research Question:
Handala’s Hair as a Weapon: Education as a Weapon
I never carried a rifle On my shoulder Or pulled a trigger. All I have Is a flute's melody A brush to paint my dreams, A bottle of ink.
All I have Is unshakeable faith And an infinite love For my people in pain.
(Zayyad, Tawfiq, All I Have)
It is critical to this study to deconstruct competing notions of martyrdom in
the Jordanian and Palestinian refugee contexts. Deconstructing the similarities and
differences in both notions of martyrdom is instrumental in contextualizing the study.
In the following analysis words such as jihad and martyr surface many times. It is
important not to identify these words through our own Western and ethnocentric lens.
Rather, the words jihad and martyr carry with them a meaning we cannot understand.
Seemingly radical fanaticism of a set of beliefs in this case is set in the context of day
to day misery. There is an indisputable dichotomy of the different orientations, and it is important to recognize, at least for the purpose of this study, all connotations of the words can coexist.
In this study, the word “martyr” for Jordanians carries a completely different
implication. Here, it has nothing to do with a sacrifice for Allah; in fact, the
Jordanian participants never even used the word martyr to describe themselves.
Rather, the notions of being burdened with the Palestinian struggle created a
180 framework of parallel notions of competing victimhoods. In other words, the nuances
attached to both Western and Palestinian refugee notions of martyrdom do not apply to the Jordanian framework. For Jordanians, the subtext of the word martyr (a word I knowingly assign) connotes with the Jordanian burden of the Palestinian conflict.
The figure below summarizes the meanings of martyrdom in all three contexts.
Palestinian Refugee Western Martyrdom Jordanian Martyrdom Martyrdom
Religious Ethnocentric Economic
Political Radical Political
Revolutionary Anti-Semitic Geo-strategic
Inherent in all three associations with the word is the victim mentality, and all rightfully so. However, I came to find that in both the Jordanian and Palestinian refugee contexts, both parties were so immersed in their own realities, they were unable to see the “other.” The assumption of Palestinians as violent people willing to die for anything was one of my biggest sore points with critics of my study, and the general public for that matter. The belief that Palestinian laji’een are so irrational and savage, they strap kids with detonators and convince them to blow themselves up for the Palestinian cause, is seeped in anti-Arabism and Islamophobia and the very assumption is riddled with ethnocentrism. While I stated instances of reaffirmed stereotypes of Islamic fundamentalism, the reason is somewhat indistinct for the masses: rather than Palestinians by nature as untamed martyrs, the current situation has pushed many to believe Islam is under attack. As a result, Palestinian willingness to die for their cause as martyrs seems extremist and militant. When a United States
181 soldier dies in battle, he or she is considered an American hero for protecting United
States democracy. When an Arab dies and martyrs him or herself for protecting
Palestinian freedom, he or she is considered savage and barbaric. In Benedict
Anderson’s (1999) testimony around the question of why people are willing to die for
their nation, he asserts, “Dying for the revolution also draws its grandeur from the degree to which it is felt to be something fundamentally pure” and the idea of ultimate sacrifice or in this case martyrdom, “comes only with the idea of purity, through fatality” (Anderson, 1999, p. 144).
In any case, the vast majority of Palestinian refugees believed education to be
the only weapon worth pursuing. Many Jordanians would even agree Palestinians are
great achievers academically, which for Jordanians is evidence of Palestinian equity.
JR: Uh, you know that Palestinians are smart, they have a business mentality, they are economical…Um, I will tell you that the refugees why they are smart, because they have been through many tough situations and these situations forced them to be like that. Yes, they are smart people, but the need justifies invention [or, necessity is the mother of invention]. (Personal communication, August 10, 2006)
In answering the second research question regarding the role of education and the
hidden curriculum, ample findings suggest Palestinian refugees view education as an avenue towards upward mobility. In my attempts to address Jordanian national
identity dissemination throughout schools, Palestinians seemed unruffled by this
reality because for them, it was more important to obtain a diploma, graduate, and
excel academically. Conceptual competing questions arise; are the Palestinian laji’een
incapable or indifferent? Or does the state-sponsored marginalization create a
seeming tolerance and indifference towards their national identities? Or finally, does
the internalization of the state-sponsored fear create a willingness to relinquish rights
182 to identity? In our discussion about the physical presence of Jordanian identity JR comments:
JR: There has to be, really. Yes. The pictures of the King are hanging everywhere. Jordanian flags and so forth. Every building, it should be there, it’s a government school.
MMM: Wherever I go in the camps, I have never seen a Palestinian flag waiving outdoors except one inside a house.
JR: No. These are Jordanian lands. It is theirs and they have the right to raise the Jordanian flag, they are Jordanians. Even on this, we are going to be stupid? (personal communication, August 10, 2006)
For Palestinian laji’een the more pressing issue was the immediate need for access, and as such the notion of identity was futile when faced with issues of unemployment and poverty. The more basic need had to be addressed before the dialogue of identity could be addressed. Jordanian national identity in academia was second to academic capital which was the most important goal.
The supposition of Palestinians as intelligent is noteworthy for two main reasons: it lifts the responsibility of fostering and promoting Palestinian equity and equality, while concurrently embedding the notion of Palestinians as a possible threat.
MMM: What do you think people would you think about me studying this subject on Palestinians? What do you think their reaction would be? Would it be good, or would they be upset?
Nour: Maybe they will be mad at you. Jordanians don’t like us and would ask why you want to conduct this study about Palestinians? Or maybe they are jealous about us because most of the excellent achievers at university are Palestinians. This is just my opinion, and is not based on fact. (Personal communication, July 30, 2006)
Similar to the Mexican immigration issue in the United States, the presence of
Palestinians (more Palestinians than Jordanians live in Jordan) brings up issues of territory and rights. The numerical visibility of Palestinians in Jordan elicits the
183 same type of sentiments expressed by anti-immigrant groups in the United States; that
the minority group fraudulently drains valuable economic and social resources from
their host country while hoarding and consuming a disproportionate amount of the
host country’s economic and social resources.
MMM: What do you think Jordanians think about Palestinians? Palestinian refugees?
JR: Let me tell you that all Jordanians, they think the same. They say that Palestinians are taking over the Jordanian economy which indicates that Palestinians are smart. What do they rely on? Their intelligence. Really. Extreme intelligence. So, here we have all companies and capitals are owned by Palestinians. Why are they Palestinians? Did we tell you not to use your brains? Not to work? (August 10, 2006)
Although I assumed a Jordanian would hesitate to acknowledge Palestinian intelligence, Shadi reaffirms JR’s perceptions.
Shadi: Well, uh the Doctors [Professors] okay, let us tell you about the Doctors. Most of the Doctors for the faculty of engineering that I take are Palestinian. They are Palestinians having those minds, Doctors minds, Professors minds, okay? Uh, Jordanian Doctors are in Arabic, English, uh okay? That [kind of] education, not for engineering. Palestinians have their minds, open minded
MMM: They are open-minded?
Shadi: Oh yeah! Professors, their minds are unbelievable, the minds that we have are nothing, excuse me.
MMM: Really?
Shadi: Yes, our minds, we either use them or we don’t. There is nothing. But we do have excellent minds. But Palestinians they know how to use their minds.
MMM: Palestinians are more overeducated? They are overeducated?
Shadi: They are overeducated. Why? Because they are out of their land
184 MMM: Yeah
Shadi: They need to, to, have a science as a weapon, okay?
MMM: Yes
Shadi: They need to have science as a weapon, that’s all. Where as a Jordanian, I am living in my home, watching tv, eating my breakfast, okay? (Personal communication, August 6, 2006)
Explicit in Shadi’s statement is the presence of Palestinian intelligence, and implicit is the notion of Jordanian privilege. In other words, Palestinians have to be intelligent in order to succeed, whereas Jordanians do not have the same level of necessity.
Early childhood education for al-laji’een is sheltered. Many are brought up in
UN schools, segregated by gender, and almost entirely Palestinian. When they enter higher education, many find themselves in the midst of a culture shock. This culture of shock manifests itself in various ways, ranging anywhere from violence to academic success. Tensions on campus exist between Palestinians and Jordanians, and although a majority of students choose not to participate in the protests, they witness conflict and opposition that sometimes makes for a hostile environment. The headscarves or kefiyyehs (black or white indicates Palestinians, red indicates
Jordanians) arguably take the form of gang colors. In the midst of the tensions students are expected to attend classes and become successful graduates of Jordanian public universities. Al-laji’een leave completely sheltered and homogenous communities upon entering public universities. This is particularly difficult for the women, who are sometimes forced to live outside the home, something many fear and dread.
185 Among the university environment and education, a hidden curriculum exists; one revolving around issues of academic access, capital, and identity. In many ways education in Jordan can be considered a microcosm of the greater community. Wasta
(bribery) is very common, and those with connections and money have the opportunity to live and lead very comfortable lives. Wasta is exercised mostly in employment and governmental issues, but it exists in education as well. Because wasta grants access to a few, it excludes many. It is important to footnote Jordanians are not the only people privy to wasta, but the tribal nature of Jordanian families as historically clanspersons indicates a longer lineage of access and privilege as a result of wasta.
MMM: What do you think is missing from education at university here?
JR: As development, there is development in the universities, however, the one thing I would like to change, to really change, is that to eliminate wasta from the university life and the jobs. Wasta shouldn’t interfere with employment and hiring. Let me tell, my major is mathematics, and I was with three other graduates at the civil service council [court] to be hired. You know what happened? There they don’t go, by taking turns. They hire the person who has wasta. Every time I go there, I find that my line is getting longer, and my turn is going backward. Why? From wasta. They bring a girl whose father is so and so, and she stands in line ahead of me. For me, for instance, I have graduated a year. So, why? Because I don’t have wasta. I know there is no justice. But why this meanness? Why? I know she doesn’t need the job, but maybe she wants to buy a car and so on, she wants to do her hair at the coiffeur, and wants to do makeup, while me, who is toiling to save food for my family is nothing. As Maslow put the basic needs of people within hierarchical [pyramids] system, but if I want a job, I can’t find one, where this girl wants to buy a car or fix her hair, she wants makeup, so that she can shine? It shouldn’t happen. (personal communication, August 10, 2006)
Even before entering university, access is an issue for al-laji’een. Royal grants or makramehs, assign a handful of seats for al-laji’een, but at their expense. Tuition is
186 expensive, especially when you consider the large number of children to a family, as
well as approximately JD 120 per family from the UN. Those who have good marks
and are accepted to university still have to find ways to finance their education.
Khaled: The university, truthfully, let’s say is being used for different purposes by different people. Meaning, politicians use it for politics. Let’s say that most of it is filled with political things to an abnormal way. Okay? So now, many people started to express themselves at university. They want their thoughts to be carried out by people. In addition, it [university] carries many people from different backgrounds meaning that some people they look at other people, meaning, I for example, my social circumstances are bad, I look at others, that hmm that person has a car, and he has this and this and this and his lifestyle is good, why don’t I become like him? I begin to daydream and daydream based on what I am saying. I graduate from university, and I get shocked from reality. Right? I graduate from university, I am shocked that the reality is totally different because the university let me live a dream. But with that, I found a great, competitive atmosphere, and one looks at himself and his status, his educational status, his social status in general. (Khaled, personal communication, July 31, 2006)
Khaled is addressing what many of al-laji’een must confront once they enter
academia; privilege. The privilege they encounter provides a false sense of hopelessness which hypnotizes them into thinking they are capable of achieving wealth like their non-refugee counterparts. Upon graduating, another reality sinks in, and the glass ceiling becomes even more opaque. The notion of privilege is similar to
the notion of false hope circling around good grades and academic standing; that a
good tawjihi score ensures a university education.
On one of my visits to mukhayam Madaba, I met a very intelligent high school
graduate with aspirations of becoming a doctor. Her heartbroken father revealed the
impossibility of her dreams ever materializing because of finances. The only solution
187 was marriage, the possibility that someone could give her access to an education and a better life.
This man has seven kids, and his fifth child just found out she got a 92 on her tawjihi [very high and very rare] and her dad had to painstakingly tell her that he is sorry but she cant go to university—he simply cant afford to send her. OC: When I look at her I think to myself—“what is the use: we tell them to keep hope, to educate themselves, to work hard, and it will pay off. So, they keep hope, educate themselves, work hard, and find no hope for university. And those that are able to attend, graduate, and are unemployed. What’s the point?” Her father begs us to take her with us to the United States, “maybe she will have a better shot at becoming the doctor she hoped she would become” he pleads. When I ask him what will happen to her, he tells me, that she will have to get married—maybe then she will have a better chance. OC: I wonder how hard it must have been for this man to tell me that he had failed his daughter, which he did tell me many times and in front of her no less. I also wonder how hard it must have been to hear. (Field notes, July 30, 2006)
Some university students make it into a Jordanian public university with a tawjihi grade half that of the woman above. It is safe to say none of them are laji’een, because those who score in the 50s could only make it via wasta.
In almost every family I talk to—there are high school graduates who have gotten above a 90 on their tawjihi. This is amazing. I ask each one how this happened, and they almost all simultaneously say it’s their only weapon. OC: I remember Prof. Zunes who told me Palestinians hold more PhDs than Israelis…These high scores give students a sense of false hope because soon they will come to learn the true meaning of wasta, and the true meaning of heartbreak. It is not uncommon, I come to find for someone to get a 94 and yet for a Jordanian with a 52 to take the place of his or her counterpart. Wasta. Bribery. Wasta runs rampant in Jordan. OC: I recognize that my emotions are being triggered, and rage is flowing through my bloodstream. I also realize now that when we talk of Arabs and all of the stereotypes that come to mind, so many are now the shadows that follow us…we think of their anger and their temper. “No wonder” I think to myself. Again, I remember Dr. Zunes who said something in class to the effect of: reactionary force usually holds legitimacy. In other words it is the reaction that receives the attention, but the important questions of ‘why’ are never asked. (Field Notes, July 30, 2006)
188
During my time in Jordan I asked those uncomfortable “why” questions, and I
consistently dreaded hearing the answers. Success and access are so deeply
connected, but this is a universal phenomenon, one not limited to Jordan, but the
existing world. My knowing that privilege and access are assigned did not make it
any easier to accept, especially when it came to education. Highly gifted laji’een
denied access to higher education spoke volumes; their lives would from then on be
dictated by their options, not their opportunities.
The flaws of higher education in Jordan are not entirely indicative of the
university system. For many, university was a way in which al-laji’een shed their
racism. Al-laji’een I spoke to were very hesitant to go to university, afraid of leaving
their families and being exposed to too much. However, after the first semester, they
reported finding their niche and embracing university life.
Nour: In our family, the educated ones think differently, but the uneducated ones, they are the biased ones. Education plays a role in that, I believe so. For instance, my uncle he is an educated man and he doesn’t object, while my older uncle is not educated, disagrees with mixed marriages. Any my grandmother is the same. Education plays a huge role.
MMM: Yes, yes.
Nour: Before I enrolled at university, I had almost the same thinking like them, but after I enrolled, things became clearer to me and everything changed. We are the same [Jordanians and Palestinians]. They are not missing an arm or leg or anything else. I have no idea why this is happening. I talk to my sisters constantly about this, and say “I wish Marianne will solve all of this!” (Nour, personal communication, July 30, 2006)
Nour and JR both attested to this transition. The homogenous mukhayam reality sheltered them from Jordanians and they were only surrounded by people who lived,
189 worshipped, and thought the way they did. In going to university they were exposed to Jordanians who did not fit the “oppressor” stereotype they were taught growing up.
Both JR and Nour met Jordanian women with whom they grew a close bond and connection, which played a vital role in their assumptions about Jordanians and vice versa. It is not the university system that allowed for the eradication of racism, rather what the university represented; a heterogeneous society wherein people of all socioeconomic, ethnic, and religious backgrounds shared a common space.
MMM: Did the university ever address anything about Jordanians and Palestinians living together?
JR: No, there was not much talk. I was living in the camp, they had an extreme racism. But when I went to university in the south of Jordan, most of my friends were young women from Karak and Tafileh [Jordanian]. On the contrary, I lived with them and it was never an issue. Really, we never thought of these topics at all. It was erased. (Personal communication, August 10, 2006)
I was told by both JR and Nour that I would find a lot of racism in the camps, and I did. Many families forbade intermarriages between Jordanians and
Palestinians. When I asked someone why, he made the parallel between how White people in the United States do not like to marry Black people (personal communication, July 30, 2006). This environment is the one many young laji’een grow up in, and they internalize the messages of Jordanians as oppressors. Hence, some are pleasantly surprised when they find loyal and wonderful Jordanian friends.
JR: I became racist during [high] school years, but when I went to college all my friends were Jordanians from Karak from Tarawneh, from Ma’an, and this is how I lived, and they were kind and why shouldn’t I deal with them? Since those days, racism was erased from me since college. (JR, personal communication, August 10, 2006)
190 The intermingling between Palestinian laji’een and mainstream society (both
Palestinian non-refugees and Jordanians) was sometimes met with hostility, but also with lasting friendship, and it is important to note the importance of the role of the university in enabling understanding to take place. In an attempt to eradicate the tensions which do exist on campus issues such as wasta and coexistence must be addressed, otherwise the inevitability of continued tensions will reach heightened levels. Although the act of entering higher education and sharing a common space with different people provided an opportunity for transformative change, this is not due to universities’ zero tolerance policy for tensions, but rather the exposure it gave many students. In other words, the university should not receive praise if the result is breaking down barriers and speaking across borders, because many times university is the place where inequities are reaffirmed.
191 CHAPTER VI: Summary, Recommendations, and Conclusions: What would Handala’s face look like?
Revisiting the Theoretical Framework
I began my analysis from the point of view that Jordanian and Palestinian refugee coexistence was imperative. The study crossed transnational boundaries in its attempt to highlight the direct effects of the Israeli-Palestinian conflict and Occupied
Palestine. My research questions about the roles of both sociopolitical and academic contexts guided my interview questions. Next, the study was grounded in several theoretical frameworks: approach to liberation through critical consciousness; anti- apartheid rights discourse; Omi and Winant’s (1994) war of position and war of maneuver and their notions of trajectory of racial politics, and finally, Glenn’s (2002) concept of unstable equilibrium.
I triangulated my observations, field notes, interviews, personal notes, and other relevant data, to generate themes for each research question. Critical reflection was essential to the study; I would write down possible ideas, themes, and questions
and put them away for a day or two before revisiting them. I reviewed my analyses
with friends and colleagues, who guided me from different perspectives.
All of these exercises individually and collectively allowed me to identify the
themes of the study, as well as the complex nature of sustained Jordanian-Palestinian
refugee coexistence. They also prompted me to add Chapter Four, entitled
“Methodological Challenges.” It is important to revisit the theoretical frameworks in
order to ground the analysis of this study.
192 Critical consciousness is the resurrection of the soul that recognizes its current
state and begins the active journey to transform and transcend its current reality
(Freire, 1994; Freire, 2003). In this practice of praxis, one is able to name the source of their oppression and rise above it. In the Jordanian-Palestinian refugee context, this framework is idealistic given testimonies of pervasive fear, particularly circulating around the ever-presence of mukhabarat. Moreover, the lack of critical consciousness in Jordanian participants and their ambivalence regarding the sociopolitical contexts coupled with the heightened consciousness of the Palestinians refugees impedes one’s ability to truly transcend oppressive existences.
Zreik’s (2002) analysis of anti-apartheid rights discourse seeks to explore whether or not the South Africa-Israel analogy applies. In attempts to deconstruct the tenets of apartheid, the complexities of the Israeli-Palestinian conflict prove inapplicable on the grounds that human rights discourse undervalues the historical
context which is so deeply connected to the ongoing struggle. Further complicating
the Palestinian case is the presence of so many refugees residing outside the country, thereby fragmenting the apartheid case. Whereas the reality for Palestinians in the
West bank fit the description of victims of neo-apartheid based on exclusion such as
Israel-only highways, the reality of apartheid speaks only to those living within the country. The dispersal of South Africa was mainly internal as opposed to the exile of millions of Palestinians.
Therefore, what I sought to explore was whether or not the Palestinian refugee
context in Jordan fit Zreik’s (2002) model of anti-apartheid discourse. What I found
was that while the anti-apartheid agenda watered down the Israel-Palestinian context,
193 it also exaggerates the Jordanian-Palestinian one. Whereas exclusion is ever-present and tensions are sometimes palpable, many Palestinians have assimilated and are upstanding members of the community. Moreover, the fact that many Palestinians in
Jordan are wealthy highlights the importance of class as one of the determining factors of exclusion. The immersion of so many Palestinians trumps the exclusion of
Palestinian laji’een. Therefore the anti-apartheid rights discourse model does not correspond with the Jordanian-Palestinian refugee context.
While the anti-apartheid framework was not apparent, Omi and Winant’s
(1994) racial formation and notions of war and maneuver and war of position were ubiquitous. It is important to revisit the definitions of both war of maneuver and war of position. War of maneuver articulates how underserved communities seek to hold on to their territories as alternatives to the dominant ideology.
Specifically, al-laji’een were so entrenched in their war of maneuver, and as stated in the analysis above one such example is the meaning attached to the image of
Che Guevara; zealous rebellion. The images on cars and houses throughout Jordan were a testimony to the resilience and to the struggle. Essentially the image of the martyr signifies the transnational revolution in the name of Palestine. More specifically, indigenous Palestinian images like Handala speak to the transnational tragedy that has become the Palestinian struggle. In Jordan, mukhayamat are intrinsically examples of war of maneuver in that they are more or less homogenous populations (majority Palestinian) on the margins of Jordanian society. Unofficial leaders of the camps and Palestinian run organizations and centers provide the services al-laji’een might need without having to go outside the camp for aid.
194 War of position is another mode of resistance, but one that warrants political
and national recognition. Palestinians are present in both, though to what degree is
debatable. Further, Black September planted the seed of distrust, essentially
restraining Palestinians from free reign. Palestinian power lies mainly, but not
entirely on numerical significance. The presence of so many Palestinians in Jordan
led the United States to believe Jordan would soon become Palestine and vice versa.
In the years following the Arab-Israeli war of 1967, Fateh emerged as the vanguard of
guerilla movements (Hudson, 1972). When Fateh began to situate itself as a
government within a government in Jordan, it was a clear illustration of war of
position.
The Palestinian Diaspora to Jordan held significant local, national, and global
implications. The displacement of Palestinian people became the displacement of the
injustice, and the responsibility fell almost entirely on Jordan to rectify it. The plan
was inherently flawed in that it bypassed Palestinian autonomy, sovereignty, and self-
determination. In September 1970, the Palestinians attempted to threaten King
Hussein. The PLO and factions of Palestinian guerilla groups throughout Jordan were taking part in guerilla attacks—essentially bullying the Jordanian government and people. This war of position threatened the possibility of any significant war of position thereafter and the core of all distrust is traced back to the events of Black
September.
In the analysis of trajectory of racial politics, or racially based social
movements, the understanding is seeped in sometimes competing interests inherent in racial ideologies. Challenges to these ideologies result in crises which interrupt the
195 unstable equilibrium. For Jordan, such instances are Black September, as well as the
Hezbollah-Israeli war during my time there. These occurrences interrupt the norm
until a new unstable equilibrium is created implementing different strategies, in this
case a strategy like the pervasiveness of mukhabarat.
Central to unstable equilibrium is Glenn’s (2002) theory of citizenship.
Citizenship, according to Glenn (2002) is fluid and changes over time, and depending
on the political and social milieu. Evidence of this in the Jordanian-Palestinian
context is rich; in the analysis above, al-laji’een were seemingly unconcerned with
Jordanian national identity indoctrination and the reasons are threefold; the most
important goal was to attain and education, inherent fear of the ramifications, and
finally their own ideas of martyrdom.
Conclusion
The overall themes found among the Jordanian participants were: lack of critical national consciousness, anti-immigrant and anti refugee sentiments, and finally blind-faith westernization. Evidence of lack of national consciousness was found in Shadi who remarked that he does not like to bother himself, or Ibrahim who maintains he is not interested in such issues. This finding falls in alignment with the claim of Jordanians as non-meddlers in politics. Perhaps the strongest and more
impassioned claims were made around the argument of the immigration and refugee
waves. While Osama was able to accept and embrace his Palestinian counterparts, he
was not keen about the Iraqi refugees, those he called “another race” (personal
communication, August 11, 2006). Meanwhile, Ibrahim and Shadi both made claims
about how Palestinians have more rights than they do. Finally, an additional unifying
196 theme was generated around blind-faith westernization, particularly U.S.-Jordanian
political relations. All participants conceded the presence of the United States was
imperative for sustained peaceful conditions in Jordan.
Among Palestinian laji’een, themes were generated and assigned to various parts of Handala. His arms behind his back represented rejection of the United States, his bare footedness represented refugee pride, and his hair illustrated education as a weapon. JR’s comments about the need for pan-Arabism as opposed to reliance on the west, as well as Khaled’s assertions about how U.S.-Jordanian relations are stronger than they have to be support Handala’s hands behind his back as a rejection of accepting solutions the American way.
Refugee pride was also evident in explicit comments made by JR and Khaled;
this ties into notions of this generation’s laji’een as agents of change for Palestine.
Evidence of refugee existence was proof Palestine existed and was occupied.
Moreover the presence of children in mukhayamat with over ten children to a family being the norm, it was brought to my attention these children were oftentimes considered warriors and soldiers in the struggle for victory. Pride was a palpable feature of al-mukhayamat. Finally, education as the weapon was substantiated not only testimonies from al-laji’een, but also Shadi who states that science is a weapon for Palestinians and education is necessary to succeed. Nour discloses that perhaps the fact that Palestinians excel in higher education might be a factor or source of tensions.
The theoretical frameworks utilized reveal the complex nature of the
Jordanian-Palestinian model. While in the South African-Israeli model, anti apartheid
197 discourse oversimplifies the historical and fragmented nature of Palestinians, it is a significant over-exaggeration in the Jordanian-Palestinian paradigm. However the trajectory of racial politics and war of maneuver and war of position so vividly capture Palestinian attempts to exist within the dominant ideology. Further, Glenn’s notion of citizenship and Omi and Winant’s premises of the unstable equilibrium highlight the fragile nature of Palestinian refugees residing within and amidst the dominant culture, particularly surrounded by so much fear.
Perhaps above all, the concept of competing notions of martyrdom fundamentally ground both Jordanians and Palestinian laji’een so firmly in their positions making it very difficult for a new, more harmonious coexistence to take place. Anderson (1999) tries to outline how nations come to be (imagined), and once they come to be, how they are developed, modified, and transformed. As present in this dissertation, Anderson contends that such analysis has oftentimes been grounded in social change and consciousness; however he asserts social change and consciousness alone do not suffice in explanations for why people are attached to the invention of their imagination, and even more importantly why people are willing to die for their inventions. Therefore, if social change and national consciousness are not enough to explain why one would die for an invention of imagination, what is the explanation?
Something of the nature of…political love can be deciphered from the ways in which language describe its object: either in the vocabulary of kinship…or that of home. Both idioms denote something to which one is naturally tied….[I]n everything ‘natural’ there is always something unchosen. In this way, nation-ness is assimilated to skin-colour, gender, parentage, and birth-era—all those things one can not help. (Anderson, 1999, p. 143)
198 The competing rationales are further exacerbated by the sociopolitical context
in Jordan, Israel and Palestine thereby crossing transnational borders. All the while,
Handala stands alone his back turned away, waiting for us to restore Palestinian human, ethnic, and transnational dignity.
Recommendations for Further Research
Rather, they [critical researchers] need to locate their work in a transformative praxis that leads to alleviation of suffering and the overcoming of oppression. Rejecting the arrogant reading of metropolitan critics and their imperial mandates governing research, insurgent researchers ask questions about how what is has come to be, whose interests are served by particular institutional arrangements, and where our own frames of reference come from. Facts are no longer simply “what is”; the truth of beliefs is not simply testable by their correspondence to these facts. To engage in critical postmodern research is to take part in a process of critical world making, guided by the shadowed outline of a dream of a world less conditioned by misery, suffering, and the politics of deceit. It is, in short, a pragmatics of hope in an age of cynical reason [emphasis added]. (Kincheloe and McLaren, 2000, p. 303)
Given the analysis and the “critical” dimension of this study, it is imperative
to ask questions regarding agency, activism, and critical education. The sociopolitical
context in Jordan is tense, but not hopeless. Continued pan-Jordanian progress is
evident, but it divides the country. It was underestimated just how much of the
tensions had to do with economic stratification. Tensions were reported between both
Jordanian and Palestinian refugee participants, and the underlying factors had to do
with gentrification of Jordan, pan-Jordanization, and globalization. The way Jordan
in positioned in the Middle East means it has inherited an overwhelming amount of
refugees from Palestine, Iraq, and Lebanon. The long legacy of Jordan as Palestine’s
guardian and spokesperson is also worth mentioning because it created competing
199 notions of martyrdom; Jordanians shouldering the Palestinian burden, and Palestinian
global, national, and local marginality and lack of autonomy.
Action must be taken on several levels, as scholarly action is only a sliver of
the solution. Palestinians and Jordanians living in Jordan must act together and
across economic, ethnic, and national identities to bridge the disconnect present in the
social, political, economic, and academic realms. Again, assuming this is the only
solution not only trivializes the cohabitation of both groups, but minimizes the
sociopolitical context within which people live. Institutional initiatives and
amendments are imperative regarding employment and mukhabarat. Without addressing the fear mukhabarat instill on both Jordanians and Palestinians, all other recommendations are futile.
This study aimed to address sociopolitical and academic implications regarding coexistence. While the socioeconomic factors emanated as a major theme, future research questions can explicitly seek to address the implications of socioeconomic factors both in terms of globalization, as well as the gentrification and stratification of Jordan. Resentment was expressed by some laji’een about the wealthy Palestinians who have seemingly deserted their own people. Studies deconstructing the complexities of what it means to be a rich Palestinian and a poor
Palestinian in Jordan would be beneficial to further understanding inter-ethnic
struggles and tensions.
Critical ethnographies on the Jordanian-Palestinian refugee reality are
necessary because the apparent lack of qualitative analyses in the arena make it
difficult to build on dated data. The milieu in Jordan is difficult to explain because so
200 many different factors are converging to cause both great prosperity and devastating
factions, among them, the wars in Iraq and Lebanon, and the Palestinian struggle.
More transnational studies are necessary to understanding border identities.
Continued study of Diaspora communities including Iraqi and Lebanese refugees
would be very valuable; a comparative analysis of all three groups of refugees living
in Jordan would further deconstruct their refugeeness. Critical exploration around
whether or not Iraqi, Lebanese, and Palestinian laji’een receive the same treatment
and encounter the same difficulties is essential to the understanding the advantages and setbacks of pan-Arabism, particularly for those living in Jordan.
Comparative studies between laji’een in relation to the dominant group are
essential. While a majority of refugee research focuses solely on refugees (or
refugee-centered) some studies fall short of contextualizing refugees and refugeeness
in relation to the host country and the dominant group. A comparative analysis
further strengthens refugee existence by paralleling it to the existence of the dominant
group. In other words, findings such a heightened critical consciousness among
laji’een participants is strengthened in my representation of Jordanian participant
ambivalence. By employing this framework both the host group and the refugee
group are privy to critically exploring for themselves the implications of coexistence.
Pseudo nation-state organizations such as the PLO, grassroots organizations
comprised of community members such as Hamas must ally themselves with each
another in order to bridge the disconnect between what organizations want for the
community, and what the community really needs. Working from a top-down
paradigm runs the risk of implementing initiatives and inappropriately allocating
201 funding. In a community-centered environment, appropriate allocation of funds and aid are more achievable goals.
Critical education in Jordan is imperative. While education in Jordan is competitive and rigorous, ignoring the sociopolitical implications on everyday life will do nothing but exasperate reactionary tendencies and anti-nationalist sentiments.
Additionally honoring and validating the reality faced by so many students helps foster a more inclusive and genuine educational experience. This in turn would deflate the frustration shared by many individuals whose experiences and challenges are not recognized. An integrated approach valuing all areas of study is direly needed. Any rejuvenation of the educational system requires adequate recognition of the reality faced by all students, thus empowering disenfranchised groups that encounter numerous obstacles placed before them.
Only by taking these preliminary steps may the educational system provide a holistic approach which does not merely perpetuate the status quo that burdens the majority and favors a selected few. By decolonizing education in Jordan and implementing critical thinking the country will do what pan-Arabism has been unable to. Whereas education is currently dictated by the sociopolitical context, perhaps education can be the catalyst for bringing about transformative change.
It is simple to merely state that a shift in the educational paradigm in Jordan is necessary, but what would this education look like? Perhaps a new paradigm that goes beyond simply subject matter, but rather is grounded in human rights discourse.
Central to this human rights model is refugees. Just as the United States is made up
202 of immigrants (other than of course, Native Americans), Jordan is made up of refugees and immigrants and this is not going to change any time soon.
A New Paradigm: Human Rights and Refugee Education (HRRE)
The Human Rights and Refugee Education (HRRE) paradigm encourages its
participants to critically think about what it means to have human rights and be a
refugee, and what it means to be a member of the dominant group. HRRE stipulates
and poses the following questions to laji’een:
1. Why am I a refugee? 2. How did I become a refugee? 3. What will it take for my people to stop being refugees? 4. Do I have the dignity, freedom, and unlimited right to pursue a livelihood? 5. Do I have the ability to believe in my people and their strife, free of fear and persecution? 6. Can I publicly express these desires without the fear of retribution and oppression? 7. Am I valued to the same degree as my counterparts in the global community? 8. How can I transform and transcend my current situation? 9. Can I ever emerge from refugeeness through political involvement, education, and measures of peace?
Discourse about such inherent rights and what it means to be a refugee is a key
element in peace and civic education, because “citizens express their power and fulfill
their citizenship obligation by expressing their opinions on war and peace” (Ahmad &
Szpara, 2005, p.14). Even further, people can also express their opinions about what
it means to be displaced. Education is entrenched in political and social agendas
reflective of dominant ideology; in addition, education is a direct reflection of the
sociopolitical context vis-à-vis selection of curriculum, textbooks, administration,
staff, and educators. At this stage in the research, Human Rights and Refugee
Education will not be defined as basic education about the basic rights of a human,
203 but rather as a process of empowering to not only understand their surroundings, but
also to shape them.
Just as important is the HRRE education Jordanians would receive.
Oftentimes comparative research finds “solutions” and recommends education for
either the disenfranchised group or the dominant group. In this case, it is imperative to address the needs of both groups in order to transcend and transform the sociopolitical and socio-academic contexts together. In any case, HRRE is a way in which romanticized or demonized ideologies can be deconstructed with the aim of moving towards inclusiveness. As the dominant group, Jordanians can no longer passively collude because collusion, even silent collusion, enables and perpetuates oppression.
But the truth is, that my silence, my inaction, and especially my passive acceptance, of the everyday privilege that goes along with group membership are all it takes to make me just as much a part of the problem as any member of the Klan. (Johnson, 2001, pp. 128-9)
Critical education as a crucial element of social and radical change must pose
questions of Jordanians as well; such questions would require critical examination of
the sociopolitical context and the role university graduates play in transcending or
perpetuating it.
1. What does it mean to be a member of the dominant group? 2. Am I a member of the dominant group? 3. What privileges are afforded to members of the dominant group that are not accessible to disenfranchised groups? 4. What is my responsibility to Jordan? 5. What is my responsibility to my Palestinian and Palestinian refugee counterparts? 6. Why are people refugees? 7. What role does my country play in enabling or fighting injustice? 8. What would it take for my Palestinian refugee counterparts to no longer be refugees?
204 9. Do any of my actions perpetuate refugee oppression? 10. Do any of my actions counter refugee oppression? 11. What are my human rights? What human rights do refugees possess? Are they the same?
The features of this comparative paradigm were designed to reflect this study
and what it sought to understand; the voices of members of both dominant and
marginalized groups. Perceptions of host country-refugee reality in a constant
sociopolitical state of flux were the foundation for understanding the role of
academia. The legacy of Jordan’s neocolonial ties to Britain also inherited a need to
appease. Since the days of King Abdullah I and his reign, his role as liaison between
the British and the Arabs impressed upon the pan-Arab psyche, Jordan’s dualistic intentions. Simultaneously, Palestine and the Palestinian struggle for autonomy and global recognition fell under the auspices of Jordan to once again facilitate and pacify
the situation. The converging of these two legacies is evident in every aspect of life
in Jordan; the social, the economic, the academic, the institutional, and the political.
205 Handala’s Face
Jagged jaw line, olive skin, distinct nose, and black eyes staring out in the
vastness cautiously optimistic, but indicative of a boy who has—despite oppression
and occupation—endured and survived. Handala’s paradox embodies death and
revival, despair and faith, youth and maturity, victim and warrior, citizen of nowhere
and citizen of humanity, exiled and transnational. In Handala’s face, we examine every freckle and scar, with physical features composed of the genetics inherited from generations before. He holds the physical and spiritual legacies of the men and women of Diaspora. I beg the question: has Handala turned his back from us so we can no longer see his face? Or, have we turned our back from him so the collective guilt of having to look in his eyes no longer haunts us?
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214 APPENDIX A
PARTICIPANT CONSENT COVER LETTER
My name is Marianne Maurice Marar and I am a doctoral student in the International and Multicultural Education program at the University of San Francisco. I am doing a study on Jordanian and Palestinian coexistence in Jordan. I am interested in understanding the experiences of Palestinian refugees and Jordanians university graduates. You have given me approval to conduct this research.
You are being asked to participate in this research study because you are either a Palestinian refugee, or Jordanian citizen graduates from a public university in Jordan. I am curious about your perceptions and experiences regarding Jordanian and Palestinian coexistence. If you agree to be in this study, you will be observed, and interviewed.
It is possible that some of the questions I ask may make you feel uncomfortable, but you are free to decline to answer any questions you do not wish to answer, or stop participation at any time. Although you will not be asked to mention or state your name during the dialogue, I will know that you were asked to participate in the research because I sent you this cover letter. Study records will be kept as confidential as possible. Study information will be kept in a private location. Only my dissertation chair, Dr. Katz and I will have access to the files and the tape recordings will be expunged upon completion of the dissertation.
While there will be no direct benefit to you from participating in this study, the anticipated benefit of this study is a better understanding your perceptions and experiences of coexistence.
There will be no cost to you as a result of taking part in this study, nor will you be reimbursed for your participation in this study.
If you have any questions about the research, you may contact me at 001 415 990- 1955. If you have any further questions about the study, you may contact the IRBPHS at the University of San Francisco, which is concerned with protection of volunteers in research projects. You may reach the IRBPHS by calling 001 415 422- 6091 and leaving a voicemail message, by emailing [email protected], or by writing to the IRBPHS, Department of Psychology, University of San Francisco, 2130 Fulton Street, San Francisco, CA 94117. You may also contact my dissertation chair, Dr. Susan Katz at 001 415 422-2209.
PARTICIPATION IN RESEARCH IS VOLUNTARY. You are free to decline to be in this study, or to withdraw from it at any point.
215 Thank you for your attention. If you agree to participate, please complete the attached consent form, and return it to me at your earliest convenience.
Respectfully,
Marianne Maurice Marar Doctoral Student University of San Francisco
216 Appendix B
PARTICIPANT CONSENT FORM
UNIVERSITY OF SAN FRANCISCO
CONSENT FOR STUDENT TO PARTICIPATE IN RESEARCH
Purpose and Background
Ms. Marianne Maurice Marar, a doctoral student at the School of Education at the University of San Francisco, is conducting a research study that seeks to understand Jordanian and Palestinian coexistence in Jordan. I am being asked to participate because I am either a Jordanian or a Palestinian refugee graduate from a public university in Jordan.
Procedures
If I agree to be a participant in this study, the following will happen:
1. I will participate in interviews. 2. I will be observed either at the refugee camp or at school for an extended period of time. 3. I will be asked about my perceptions and experiences regarding coexistence of Jordanians and Palestinians in Jordan. 4. I will participate in the dialogues with knowledge that they will be taped, and transcribed.
Risks and/or Discomforts
1. It is possible that some of the questions will make me feel uncomfortable, but I am free to decline to answer any questions I do not wish to answer or to stop participation at any time. 2. Study records will be kept as confidential as possible. No individual identities will be used in any reports or publications resulting from the study. Study information will be kept in a private file at all times. Only the researcher, Ms. Marar and the dissertation chair, Dr. Susan Katz, will have access to the files. 3. Because of the time required for my participation I may become bored or tired.
217
Benefits
There will be no direct benefit to me from participating in this study. The anticipated benefit of this study is a better understanding of my perceptions of Jordanian and Palestinian coexistence.
Costs/Financial Considerations
There will be no financial costs to me as a result of taking part in this study.
Payment/Reimbursement
I will not be reimbursed for my participation in this study, because there are no financial considerations.
Questions
I have talked to Ms. Marianne Maurice Marar about this study and have had my questions answered. If I have further questions about the study, I may call her at 001 415 990-1955 or Dr. Susan Katz at 001 415422-2209.
If I have any questions or comments about participation in this study, I should first talk with the researcher. If for some reason I do not want to do this, I may contact the IRBPHS, which is concerned with protection of volunteers in research projects. I may reach the IRBPHS office by calling 001 415 422- 6091 and leaving a voicemail message, be emailing [email protected], or by writing to the IRBPHS, Department of Psychology, University of San Francisco, 2130 Fulton Street, San Francisco, CA 94117-1080.
218
Consent
I have been given a copy of the “Research Subject’s Bill of Rights” and I have been given a copy of this consent form to keep.
PARTICIPATION IN THE RESEARCH IS VOLUNTARY. I am free to decline to be in this study, or to withdraw from it at any point. My decision as to whether or not to participate in this study will have no influence on my present or future status.
My signature below indicates that I agree to participate in this study.
______Subject’s Signature Date of Signature
______Signature of Person Obtaining Consent Date of Signature
219 APPENDIX C
ORGANIZATION CONSENT LETTER
UNIVERSITY OF SAN FRANCISCO
CONSENT COVER LETTER TO DEPARTMENT OF PALESTINIAN AFFAIRS- REQUEST FOR ACCESS TO REFUGEE CAMP AND PARTICIPATION IN RESEARCH
Department of Palestinian Affairs P.O.Box 2469 Amman 11191 Jordan
To Whom It May Concern:
INTRODUCTION AND PURPOSE
My name is Marianne Marar (Jordanian Passport # I989529), and I am a doctoral student at the University of San Francisco. I plan to conduct a dissertation study that explores Jordanian-Palestinian coexistence in Jordan. Specifically, I will be observing Jordanian graduates and Palestinian refugee university graduates. I am conducting a qualitative study in hopes of gaining a greater understanding of perceptions and experiences of Jordanian-Palestinian coexistence.
One part of this study requires me to understand refugee culture and to do so I request that I be allowed access into a refugee camp. I am asking permission that I be able to explore the camp between July and August 2006 as well as between December 2006 and January 2007- as this is a two phase study.
This Consent Form is a request for your permission to allow me access into the camps. All data collected in this study will remain confidential. Pseudonyms will be used to identify all individuals and all identities will remain confidential and will not be used in any reports or publications resulting from the study.
PROCEDURE
In addition to your permission, certain members of the refugee camp will be asked to participate in interviews that cover the following issues: the experiences and perspectives of Palestinians regarding coexistence in Jordan; the role that politics plays in perceptions of coexistence; and finally, what role does education play in addressing coexistence?
Data will be collected via interviews, collection of materials such as loose pamphlets, and field observation.
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RISKS AND/OR DISCOMFORTS
There are no known risks and/or discomforts associated with this study.
BENEFITS
While there may be no direct benefit to you as a result of giving me permission to access a refugee camp, the anticipated benefit of this study is a better understanding of Jordanian and Palestinian perceptions of coexistence.
COSTS/FINANCIAL CONSIDERATIONS
There will be no costs to you as a result of taking part in this study, nor will you be reimbursed for your participation in this study.
QUESTIONS
Do not hesitate to ask questions about the study before participating or during the study. I would be happy to share findings with you after the research is completed. You may contact me at [email protected] . If you have further questions about the study, you may contact the IRBPHS at the University of San Francisco, which is concerned with the protection of volunteers in research projects. You may reach the IRBPHS at 001 415 422-6091 and leaving a voicemail, or by emailing [email protected], or by writing to the IRBPHS, Department of Psychology, University of San Francisco, 2130 Fulton Street, San Francisco, CA 94117-1080.
You can also contact Dr. Susan Katz at the University of San Francisco at 001 415 422-2209 or via email at [email protected] or by writing her at the School of Education, University of San Francisco, 2130 Fulton Street, San Francisco, CA 94117-1080.
Thank you for your attention. If you agree to give me access and permission to a refugee camp, please sign and return the attached consent form.
Sincerely,
Marianne Marar
221 APPENDIX D
ORGANIZATION CONSENT FORM
UNIVERSITY OF SAN FRANCISCO
CONSENT COVER FORM TO DEPARTMENT OF PALESTINIAN AFFAIRS- REQUEST FOR ACCESS TO REFUGEE CAMP AND PARTICIPATION IN RESEARCH
CONSENT
I have been given a copy of the “Research Subject’s Bill of Rights” and I have been given a copy of this consent form to keep.
I understand that my participation will always be voluntary. I understand that I am free to withdraw at any time.
Name of Person and title giving consent at Department of Palestinian Affairs
______(name) ______(title)
Signature of Person giving permission at Department of Palestinian Affairs
______
Name of Person Obtaining Consent Marianne M. Marar______
Signature of Person Obtaining Consent ______
222 APPENDIX E
INTERVIEW GUIDE FOR PALESTINIAN REFUGEE STUDENTS
Background Information How old are you? Where were you born? What University did you attend? When did you graduate? What is your socioeconomic status? What is your parent’s education level? Do you work now? What do you do?
1. What is life as a refugee like?
Research Question B- EDUCATION
2. What were your attitudes about University?
3. Did you engage in any protests at university?
4. Did your university ever address Jordanians and Palestinians living together?
5. What was the university climate/environment like?
6. What do you think of politics in Jordan today? Do you learn about it in university?
7. What about the history of Jordan? Does it address J-P history?
8. Were there tensions at university? WHY or WHY NOT?
Research Question A-SOCIOPOLITICAL CLIMATE
9. What are your attitudes regarding the rise of immigrants and refugees coming to Jordan?
10. Have you benefited—whether directly or indirectly from the economic boom in Jordan?
11. What do you think about Jordan’s relationship with the United States?
12. What do you think about Jordan’s involvement with the Palestinian conflict?
223 13. What is your attitude about Jordanians?
14. What do you think Jordanians think about Palestinians? Palestinian refugees?
15. Where do you see Jordan in ten years?
16. How do you see Jordanians and Palestinians living together in ten years?
GENERAL ATTITUDES REGARDING COEXISTENCE
17. What does your family think about Jordanians?
18. What is it like not having your own land?
19. What does being a refugee mean to you?
20. Do you hold a Jordanian Passport?
21. Do you consider yourself a Jordanian or a Palestinian?
22. If there was peace in Palestine, would you move back or stay here?
23. Do you have loyalty towards Jordan? Why or why not?
24. Do you feel different when you hang out with a Jordanian versus another Palestinian?
25. Where do you see yourself in ten years?
26. Why is this topic so sensitive?
224 APPENDIX F
Palestinian Refugee Follow-Up Questions
1. What have you thought about since our last interview?
2. Is there anything you wish you could have said?
3. Is there anything you regret saying?
4. What is higher education lacking in Jordan? What would you change?
5. Given your last interview, why do you perceive education to be different for Palestinians than for Jordanians?
6. Is Jordanian national identity adoption a choice or an imposition? Please explain.
7. How did Jordanian national identity come through in your education, if at all? (i.e. songs, teaching re: history)
8. What would ideal Jordanian higher education look like to you?
9. Palestinian political participation is very minimal. Why do you think there should or should not be more of a Palestinian presence in government?
10. What do you think are the positive and negative stereotypes of Palestinians?
11. What do you think are the positive and negative stereotypes of refugees?
12. What, if anything did you and the other interviewees discuss about our coming to the camp?
13. What do you think about my desire to explore this study?
225 APPENDIX G
INTERVIEW GUIDE FOR JORDANIAN STUDENTS
Background Information How old are you? Where were you born? What University did you attend? When did you graduate? What is your socioeconomic status? What is your parent’s education level? Do you work now? What do you do?
1. What is life as a Jordanian like?
Research Question B- EDUCATION
2. What were your attitudes about University?
3. Did you engage in any protests at university?
4. Did your university ever address Jordanians and Palestinians living together?
5. What was the university climate/environment like?
6. What do you think of politics in Jordan today? Do you learn about it in university?
7. What about the history of Jordan? Does it address J-P history?
8. Were there tensions at university? WHY or WHY NOT?
Research Question A-SOCIOPOLITICAL CLIMATE
9. What are your attitudes regarding the rise of immigrants and refugees coming to Jordan?
10. Have you benefited—whether directly or indirectly from the economic boom in Jordan?
11. What do you think about Jordan’s relationship with the United States?
12. What do you think about Jordan’s involvement with the Palestinian conflict?
226 13. What is your attitude about Palestinians? Palestinian refugees?
14. What do you think Palestinians think about Jordanians?
15. Where do you see Jordan in ten years?
16. How do you see Jordanians and Palestinians living together in ten years?
GENERAL ATTITUDES REGARDING COEXISTENCE
17. What does your family think about Palestinians?
18. What do you think about Palestinians not having their own land?
19. What does the presence of so many refugees in Jordan mean to you?
20. Do you think about Palestinians holding a Jordanian Passport?
21. Do you feel different when you hang out with a Palestinian versus another Jordanian?
22. Where do you see yourself in ten years?
23. Why is this topic so sensitive?
227 APPENDIX H
Jordanian Follow-Up Questions
1. What have you thought about since our last interview?
2. Is there anything you wish you could have said?
3. Is there anything you regret saying?
4. What is higher education lacking in Jordan? What would you change?
5. Given your last interview, why do you perceive education to be different for Palestinians than for Jordanians?
6. Is Jordanian national identity adoption a choice or an imposition? Please explain.
7. How did Jordanian national identity come through in your education, if at all? (i.e. songs, teaching re: history)
8. What would ideal Jordanian higher education look like to you?
9. Palestinian political participation is very minimal. Why do you think there should or should not be more of a Palestinian presence in government?
10. What do you think are the positive and negative stereotypes of Palestinians?
11. What do you think are the positive and negative stereotypes of refugees?
12. What, if anything did you and the other interviewees discuss about our coming to the camp?
13. What do you think about my desire to explore this study?
228